


Chivalrous Ambition

by utterly



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, BAMF Ginny Weasley, Beauxbatons, Drarry, Durmstrang, Fluff, Ginny Weasley Triwizard Champion, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Oblivious Harry Potter, Slow Burn, Triwizard Tournament, UST, chamber of secrets dormitories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-24 18:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 73,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7519285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/utterly/pseuds/utterly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An Eighth year at Hogwarts. Another Triwizard Tournament. A houseless year-group. <br/>Feelings that certainly haven't weakened. Feelings that may be shifting. <br/>The rivalry that was one last constant in Harry's life isn't the same, and what's he to do? What is there to this change?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not Again

_Not again  
No taste for the crow you feed me  
Not again  
It's not a matter of if I care  
Not again  
What an intricate web you're weaving  
Did it again_

“You have got to be kidding me,” Harry exclaimed, and he swore loudly, knocking his head back against the wall of the Hogwarts express carriage. He smacked the Daily Prophet down on his lap and stared incredulously from Hermione to Ron and back. “Again? They can’t honestly think it’s a good idea to do this whole thing again, can they? Why would Kingsley let the happen? I mean does no one remember what happened last time? I cannot believe this!” he blurted, clearly exasperated. 

Hermione shook her head, her eyes rolling a little. 

“Honestly, Harry, don’t you think you’re overreacting a little? It’s not like a repeat of that situation is possible. Voldemort’s gone now, and before that, things were fine, weren’t they?” she said, cocking her head.   
Harry shook his in response and looked at Ron for support. 

“I mean, I see where you’re coming from, mate, but I really don’t think it’ll be much of a problem. Kingsley probably wants to boost morale, you know?” Ron said. Harry saw Hermione squeeze his red haired friend’s hand. 

He sighed and looked out the window. He supposed they were right. Since he’d defeated Voldemort back in May, there wasn’t much that could go wrong anymore.   
Harry thought back to when he was 14 and been forced into the last Triwizard Tournament against his will. That year, everything he’d been dreading since age eleven had happened. With Voldemort, the Death Eaters and other such threats gone, there really wasn't much of a reason not to have a repeat. Other than the fact that it brought back memories that Harry wasn’t too keen on having glued to the front of his mind. 

Hermione leaned across the space between their knees and laid a hand on Harry’s, hers a few shades darker than his. He looked back at her.   
“I know this is hard for you. Harder than for the rest of us, but nothing is going to happen this time. If you choose to not enter, then there is no way you will be a part of the Tournament. Everyone can promise that.” 

Harry scoffed but made no move to pull his hand away.   
“I would never. No matter what anyone offered me, I could never enter this time and promise me please that neither of you will enter?” he asked, looking pleadingly between the faces of his two best friends. Both agreed without question. 

The three fell silent for a short while, before Ron spoke.   
“Where’s Ginny? He was on the platform with us. I thought she’d be here, now that you two re… back.” He raised an eyebrow at Harry. 

“Oh, I think she’s with her seventh year friends. Quite sure, anyhow.” Harry shrugged, not to bothered. “We’ll see her later at the feast.”

“Well I think the two of you are lovely,” Hermione said, giving Harry a loving smile.   
“Not too lovely though. We’re the power couple now,” Ron said, putting an arm around Hermione and grinning. She slapped him playfully in the stomach and kissed his cheek.   
Things had been nice since Hermione and Ron had gotten together, but different. Harry wasn’t quite as in the group as he had been before, but still, he was okay with that. 

“I wonder how this eighth year thing is going to work this year. Hogwarts has never had an eighth year before, and there’s a fair few of us,” Hermione brought up then. Harry, too, had been wondering this. Due to the destruction of Hogwarts, the seventh years had not been able to take their NEWTs, and some hadn’t been as school all year at all. 

“I suppose we’ll have the same classes as the seventh years. Not sure if we’ll be with them. THat’d be weird. Not sure I want to have classes with my little sister…” Ron said, his brow furrowing. Harry grinned. 

“You’re just afraid cuz she’d show you up in every class,” he joked. Ron mocked looking offended before grinning back and kicking Harry in the shin. 

 

The three continued to talk and joke as the train slid by fields which became forests, and they bought a few pasties off the trolley to get them through the ride. They were relatively close to arriving in Hogsmeade when the door to their compartment slid open to reveal an unpleasant, albeit not unexpected surprise.   
“So you three also decided to grace the school with your presence this year. Not that anyone wants it,” came the drawl. Draco Malfoy stepped slightly into their compartment, Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini stayed outside, looking bored. 

“I was wondering if you were going to turn up today. Wouldn’t have been a ride on the Hogwarts express if I hadn’t seen you,” Harry said “Is there anything you want?” The corner of Malfoy’s lip curled. 

“Well, as you ask, there is actually. It might be of some help to you” he sneered. Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini smirked at each other. 

“Since when do you want to help us? And if this isn’t going to be helpful, get out!” Ron said, raising his voice, glaring up at Malfoy. The blonde raised an eyebrow. 

“Easy there, Weasel. I can’t think how you could possibly doubt my intentions.” Ron scoffed and gave him a disgusted look. 

“Let’s hear it then, so you can get out,” Harry said in a confident yet bored tone of voice. Draco Malfoy turned his head towards Harry then, smirking. 

“Well, Potter, let’s just say you won’t be needing any of that attire which shows everyone which house you’re in. I suppose you could consider it a shame, seeing how loyal you are to that house. I suppose we’ll have to see each other later tonight then,” Malfoy drawled, and he turned and left, Pansy and Blaise following him before anyone in that compartment even had the chance to ask what he meant. 

“Get rid of our Gryffindor stuff? He can’t be serious,” Ron said, looking around, hoping the others found this just as ridiculous. Harry shrugged, and shook his head. 

“I don’t know. He seemed quite serious. And neither he nor his Slytherin friends were wearing patches on their robes, or ties for that matter,” Hermione noted. This worried Harry. Malfoy was right- he was loyal to Gryffindor, as was everyone else in his house. In fact, he would have said the same went for every house. Malfoy too had been fiercely proud of being a Slytherin all through fifth year, if not sixth as well. 

“Whatever,” Ron said, shaking his head as if to rid himself of the thought. “I am not taking this tie off, and I’m not listening to what Malfoy says. How would he know what’s going on anyway?” 

 

The train pulled into Hogsmeade then, and they stepped off, heading towards the thestral drawn carriages. Harry tried to pretend he didn’t notice all the attention they were getting from the eighth years this year, although the thestrals looked pleased. It was too painful to realise how many people had become acquainted with seeing death the previous school year. 

 

Upon arriving at the Hogwarts gates, the carriages were deserted, and Harry heard a jolly, familiar voice shouting out: “Eighth years! Eighth years over here for briefing, please!”   
It was the head of Hufflepuff house, Professor Sprout, unkempt as ever, but friendly and rosy too. The Eighth year students followed her voice over to the side of the main entrance and stood waiting. 

Ginny passed by and stopped to kiss Harry before wandering off waving, looking confused, but grinning nonetheless. Harry grinned back. He liked Ginny very much, and was pleased that they were together.  
He turned his attention back to the group of Eighth years, and scouted out familiar faces there. Parvati Patil was there, as were Lavender Brown, Seamus, Dean and Neville. Around eight Hufflepuffs, ten Ravenclaws, yet only three Slytherins. It made Harry wince. 

“You alright, mate?” ROn asked, standing next to him. Harry nodded as Professor Sprout began to speak. 

“Hello and welcome back to the first eighth year of Hogwarts we’ve had!” she began. “Since this is new, a few changes have been made to how things will go for you lot this year. First of all, and I do hate to be the bringer of bad news, but you no longer belong to your own houses.” Outcries came from the students then. Ron, Harry and Hermione all looked at one another in horror. 

“No way! Malfoy was telling the truth!” ROn looked appalled. 

“I do that, you know,” came a familiar voice. “People are always surprised.” Malfoy grinned, flashing his teeth.   
“Shove off, Malfoy,” Ron said, pulling Harry away from him.   
Most people had become quiet again. 

“I understand that this is frustrating. However, there simply is not enough room in the house dormitories or on the long tables to accommodate you. What’s more, as you are all technically too old to be here, the houses are not permitted to take you. The school however, can. Therefore, there is a smaller table at the back of the great hall for all of you all to sit at-” groans ensued. “And,” Professor Sprout continued, raising her voice, “you will need to stay until the rest of the students have left to be lead to your new common room. Please, go on ahead, and enjoy the feast!” 

“I wonder where the new common room is,” Dean said to the other Gryffin-- ex-Gryffindor boys Harry reminded himself. Seamus shook his head.   
“No idea, but if they're taking us away from Gryffindor tower, it better be bloody amazing,” the short Irish boy said, disgruntled. 

 

It was strange sitting with only 28 other people on their own table at the back of the massive great hall, and Harry wasn’t sure how we felt about it, while the sorting went by. It lacked the sense of belonging and community they had felt. It was secluded. Perhaps in time it would bring them closer together as their own group. In their own time. In their own good long time. 

After the delicious feast, which was a quieter affair for the eighth years than ever before, Professor McGonagall rose from her seat in the center of the teachers’ long table. 

“Welcome back to, or to Hogwarts. It is rather big news that the Triwizard Tournament will indeed be happening here again this year, as I’m sure many of you have heard. For those of you who do not know…” She went on to explain the tournament for everyone who hadn’t been there for the tragic previous affair. Professor McGonagall was severe, yet smiling. Harry didn’t think anyone would have made a better headmistress. “I am fully aware that it was hosted here four years ago, but in light of those events, it was decided that perhaps things could be turned around if we again, were the hosts. The schools of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in late October, and I’m sure you are all as excited as I am.  
Furthermore, I would like to introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Melissa Grove, alumni of Hogwarts, who was an Auror prior to this.” A woman who looked to be in her early fourties stood and smiled at the students to a round of applause. She looked kind, yet her eyes were hard. 

“Also, replacing me in the role of Transfiguration teacher is Professor Ristus Maillen, who happens to be an alumni of Beauxbatons, whose students will be visiting us next month.”   
Professor McGonagall went on to give first year's instructions to follow their prefects, and the students began to disperse. 

 

It was an awkward affair, simply waiting for everyone to leave the Great Hall. There had been a fair bit of inter-house communication during the feast (not that it was inter-house anymore) but the former Slytherins had not yet said much to anyone but each other. No one had wanted to talk to them much, either. The Battle of Hogwarts, where one of them had been on the opposing side, and two of them had chosen not to fight, still seemed too recent to them. 

The teachers, too, left the great hall, wishing their colleagues a good night, until only their Headmistress was left. She stepped down from the long table and strode down between the house tables to the back where the eighth years were just getting out from the benches. 

“Well now, it is wonderful to see you all back. Eager to do your NEWT’s, I hope!” Many of them smiled back at her, some more eagerly than others. “I don’t want to keep you all up too late, so do follow me to your new dormitories.” They all tailed after her. 

“Things are different, I must say, but oh, I’m so happy to be back!” Hermione said, as she grabbed Ron and Harry’s hands, a spring in her step.   
They walked down the hall, towards the western end of the castle.   
“You may all be of age,” Professor McGonagall said, “but you are still students, and I expect you all to behave in a reasonable manner. You have room assignments which you will be able to find on your dormitory doors. The password will be up to you to choose, but I expect you to change it each month, and update me when you do so. Harry Potter?” Harry’s head jerked up towards where Professor McGonagall was walking. 

“What? Ah- I mean… yes, Professor?” McGonagall did not stop walking, but Harry got closer to the front of the small crowd. 

“You are responsible for changing the password. You are the one able to. You will know what I mean. It is currently Eighty-seven Hats. I’m sure you’re familiar with that awful song that’s been playing everywhere this summer?” she said, addressing Harry, and shaking her head. 

“Of course, Professor. I’ll… uh… I’ll do my best.”

“I should think so.”

The group hated outside a door. 

“Professor…” Hermione began cautiously. “Isn’t his… the out of order girls’ toilet?” Professor McGonagall gave her a small smile. 

“It is indeed. However, we have renovated, and our ghost Myrtle is no longer living here. YOur dormitories are just down the stairs. I’m sure you’ll be able to navigate them yourselves. Goodnight, eighth years,” she said before turning on her heel, and walking briskly away. 

Harry started to feel dizzy. 

“Oh no,” he said, taking a step back. “This can’t be, can it? Oh please, no.” He looked around and only Hermione and Ron knew what he was talking about. 

“Come on, Harry. I’m sure it’s all different now. It’ll be fine. They wouldn’t have made it our dorm otherwise,” Ron said, clapping a hand on Harry’s shoulder, and steering him in through the door. It was a small room with two doorways on the opposite wall- a narrow one labelled ‘slide,’ and a much wider one labelled ‘stairs.’ 

“I don’t know about you lot, but only those three seem to know what this place is,” ex-Ravenclaw Terry Boot stated, nodding at Harry, Ron and Hermione. “Care to lead us? Or at least explain?” 

Harry was vaguely aware of Hermione saying something about ‘later,’ but he had begun to feel thoroughly sick. Taking a deep breath, Harry pulled himself together and went straight to the doorway labelled ‘slide,’ letting himself in, and going down. The walls were no longer rocky and slimy and terrifyingly steep, but polished marble, wide, clean, and turning in a gentle spiral. He’d just reached the bottom when he was kicked in the back and sent sprawling across the stone floor. 

“Do watch out for yourself, won’t you, Potter?” Malfoy drawled from behind him. Harry gritted his teeth and stood up, straightening his robes, as other eighth years arrived at the foot of the slide. 

“That was fun!” squealed Lavender Brown. “I’m so glad we’ll be able to do that every day now!” Parvati eagerly agreed. 

The corridor ahead of them was cold stone with flaming torches on either side and a large round iron door about ten metres down with twisting snakes on it. The Chamber of Secrets hadn’t changed enough for Harry’s liking. He gulped and walked towards it, very self conscious that he was moving so slowly. Hermione and ron appeared on one side of him, both sending reassuring nods in his direction. 

“Oh do hurry up, Potter. I’d rather like to get to see our dormitories before tomorrow,” Draco spat from the back of the group. A few people scowled at him. 

Harry had come to dislike snakes by forcing himself to. Over the years, he had practically taught himself Parseltongue, so he was consciously aware of being able to speak it, but with every passing year, Harry would continue to tell himself that he didn’t like snakes. Not that it was a problem now, of course. The password was in English. He was, however, already dreading having to change it. It was a part of Voldemort that felt like he was clinging onto it, although he knew this was no longer true. 

“Eighty-seven Hats,” Harry said, and the snakes moved, swinging the door open and allowing everyone to step through into what had been the Chamber of Secrets not so long ago. Next to him, Ron cringed. 

“We’ll have to do something about that password.” All 29 of them filed into the gigantic, open space to find it quite lovely. The floor and walls were still stone, but carpets covered the welcoming end. Armchairs and sofas lay round the fireplace which was massive, and in the place where Salazar Slytherin’s head had once stood. Harry swallowed hard and looked down the other end of the hall. It was cut off. The chamber had been made smaller to suit being a common room, and the echo effect had been taken away with spells, he assumed. The round passageways leading off from the chamber had remained, however, presumably leading to the dormitories. 

Everyone around Harry sounded excited and interested in this new part of the castle, yet they had no idea what it really was. It sickened Harry a little that this would be done. This and the Triwizard Tournament both. It seemed that no one had any sensitivity about past events anymore. And so soon after the battle, as well. 

“Let’s go find our dorms then,” Seamus yawned, walking down the round stone corridor on the left of the room. This was quickly discovered to be the girls’ side, yet Harry and Ron walked with Hermione until she stood in front of the door labelled with her name right above none other than Pansy Parkinson’s. Hermione sighed resolutely and turned to Ron. 

“I’m sorry, darling,” Ron said, and kissed her. Hermione forced a smile. 

“No, no worries. Good night, you two,” she said and disappeared into her room. On their way down to the other corridor to find their own room, they passed Pansy and gave one another a look that expressed their pity for and admiration of Hermione.   
Fortunately for them, Harry and Ron were sharing a room. That room, however, also happened to be in the exact same place as where the Basilisk had backed Harry into a corner, almost killing him. He knew it was all over, but Harry still got nervous about almost every situation in case some creature or Death Eater or Voldemort himself happened to be there. It wasn’t something Harry felt he could simply get over. And yes, he understood how many others must feel as well, having lost loved ones, and going through traumatizing experiences, but it had been never ending for Harry. That constant twitching in his scar those past few years, and now it was gone. It was slightly disconcerting, to say the least.   
But he didn’t complain. He couldn’t- Not when he was back in the best home he had known. 

*

It was two in the morning, and Harry still couldn't sleep. These small dormitories were nice, with no more than three people to a room, They were similar to the ones they had left in furnishings, with wood-framed four poster beds and velvet hangings, although these curtains were a deep royal purple. Their wardrobes were of the same dark wood as their beds, and the floor was carpeted black. It was attractive, but too dark for Harry’s liking. Too sinister. Too… ‘Chamber of Secrets.’ 

Unable to bear it any longer, he threw his legs over the side of the bed and, grabbing the Marauders’ Map from his open trunk, tiptoed toward the common room. Again, a nice setting, but again, one Harry wasn’t too keen on. How large the room was didn’t exactly help either.   
Thinking back to the end of year feast of his second year at Hogwarts, after being in this awful place and winning against Tom Riddle and the basilisk, and reuniting him and Ron with Hermione and Hagrid, he conjured up his Patronus charm- the glowing silver stag who walked back and forth in front of Harry, head held high, and taking slow, deliberate steps. Harry’s chest loosened a bit at the sight, and he looked down at the map in his hand.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” he muttered, and tapped the parchment. Unfolding the map, he looked around the castle. Everyone was asleep. But the Chamber of- the Eighth year dormitories, Harry corrected himself, were not on the map. They never had been.   
It was frustrating. Now he wouldn’t know what everyone was up to unless… unless he himself decided to add on to the map. Not being able to sleep, Harry figured this was a good use of his time. This was a good place to start.   
He did not sleep. 

*

The next morning was hard- Harry was exhausted sitting at the back table in the great hall as time tables were delivered to all the students.   
Ginny and Luna came to the back to find out if they would be in any of the same classes. Curiously enough, this was not the case. 

“Oh. I thought it would be like when students have to repeat a year,” Luna said, a soft smile on her face. Ron shook his head, grinning bemusedly.   
“Excuse me, we are not repeating a year. We are simply doing our final year now,” he clarified. 

“Shame there’s no Quidditch this year, though,” Ginny brought up. “I might have been captain otherwise.” This brought Harry’s head up from the table for the first time. He looked slightly offended.   
“Oh come on, Harry. It couldn't have been you this year. You’re not part of Gryffindor anymore,” she said. Harry slumped back down. 

“Oi, you,” Ron said, pointing a finger at his sister. “We may not have the attire or the tower or the table, but in our hearts, we will always be Gryffindors!” 

Harry looked at his timetable. It was almost the same as in sixth year, although a few teachers’ names had changed. It was a shame really, to lose Professor McGonagall as a teacher. He wondered as well if this Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher would be any good. He reconsidered, thinking that a better question would be if she would last more than a year. What a strange occurrence that would be. 

“Harry, are you alright? You’re exhausted. You look truly dreadful,” Hermione said. Harry sat up and tried to look aware of everything around him, blinking at the light. 

“Honestly, Potter,” came Malfoy’s voice. “Did you not sleep at all last night because of the big bad dormitories?” He gave a scathing smirk and ran a hand through his white blonde hair before striding away. .   
It wasn’t at all fair, thought Harry, that Malfoy could look so put together and pristine while he was feeling this awful. Harry glared after him. 

“I’m fine,” he yawned at Hermione. “So are we just in eighth year classes then? That’ll be small. Nice though. But it means dealing with Malfoy more than I’d like.” Hermione shrugged.

“I know he’s a right pain, but there’s not many of us. And we’re all sharing a common room now, so we might as well try and get along, don’t you think?” Next to her, Ron choked on his toast, and looked at her as though she were suggesting that they invite the giant squid to live with them. 

“Hermione, there is no ‘getting along’ when it comes to Malfoy. We saved him back in May, and that didn’t change his awful attitude, did it?” Hermione glared at him. 

“Ronald you’re impossible. If we have to deal with him, I don’t want anyone getting into fights. That’s all I’m saying.” But Harry was more on Ron’s side with this one. Befriending Draco Malfoy was something he’d rejected when he was eleven, and that was not going to change.  
He looked down the table to where Malfoy was sitting, talking with his two friends. In that environment, he didn’t look as unpleasant as he was. It irritated Harry, and he knew that there was no way to cut this rivalry away. Not how he saw it, anyhow.


	2. Tell Me the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry still can't sleep at night in the ex-Chamber of Secrets, and nothing and no one around him seems to be helping that fact.

_I'll take you for granted_  
_Like you took me_  
_I'll take you for granted_  
_Like you should be_  
_Maybe I'm wrong_

The first week back was tough for Harry. He was surprised at how easy the classes had become for him, in practice. The theory and the reading seemed harder than ever, though. It wasn’t that he wasn’t getting all the work done- he was. All that night time spent awake allowed that, but not being able to stay awake during class was certainly a hindrance. Harry slept through most of his classes, whenever he could. His friends worried about him. 

“Harry, I know it used to be the Chamber of Secrets. Other people also have bad memories about that place,” Ron said at dinner on Friday. “But something’s got to change, mate. You can’t keep going like this.”  
Ginny, who had been passing by on her way to the Gryffindor table stopped dead in her tracks. Due to his utter exhaustion, Harry hadn’t been speaking to her much, yet. 

“What was that?” she asked Ron, her voice high and sharp. Utterly unlike Ginny. She stepped over to their table. “What did you say about.. About that place?” Ron caught his breath. Harry knew he hadn’t wanted it mentioned to Ginny, where they were sleeping. At least not yet. 

“Nothing, Ginny. Don’t worry about it. There’s no problem.”

“No, tell me Ron. I need to know. Besides, that place can’t hurt anyone anymore,” she said. Her voice was still on edge, but she sounded more confident in herself. Ron sighed and rubbed a hand over his eye. 

“It’s where our new dormitories are. Because we don’t count as Gryffindors anymore,” he explained, not meeting Ginny’s eyes. She drew in a sharp breath and her face twisted into one of outrage. 

“Why would they do that? They know what it was. They know what Harry went through down there! Don’t they realise that it’s disrespectful? To you two? To muggleborns?” she shouted. Ginny slowly let out a deep breath and straightened herself out. “Although it’s awful, I hope it gets easier, Harry. And I hope you rise above it with everyone. Reclaim it as a place of peace, or something.” Ginny then got quite excited. “I know! When the other schools arrive, throw an inter house party! It’ll be perfect!” She kissed Harry on the cheek and went off. 

“A girl of extremes, your sister,” he said, grinning at Ron. “Brilliant.” Ron left out a long, low breath. 

“She certainly is. But she’s right. You defeated everything in that chamber, and now we’re all there together. It’s different. We’ll start something cheery tonight. Just a few of us,” he suggested.  
Harry was so grateful to have the ever-optimistic Ron a his friend at a time like this. He wasn’t sure if it was the Chamber itself that was what was bothering him, or that it brought back every negative memory that had somehow related to Hogwarts. The reasons that had made loving the school so much a little harder. 

Hermione who had been at the library joined them then. 

“Harry, you have got to start paying more attention in class. Professor Maillen and Professor Grove have already started off on the wrong foot with you. And it matters. You don’t want to slip from being top in Defence Against the Dark Arts. It’s very important for you,” she lectured him as she slid into the bench across from Harry and Ron. 

“Come on, Hermione, give him a break. He hasn’t been sleeping,” Ron told her. She sighed. 

“I know. It’s awful. Something’s got to be done about this. You should go to the hospital wing. I’m sure Madame Pomfrey would-” 

“I don’t need help. I’m fine,” Harry snapped. “I’m just being stupid.” Hermione sighed. 

“Well in that case, we should at least try to do something about your attitude towards our dormitories. Maybe a game night of some kind,” she suggested. Ron nodded in agreement. 

“Yeah we were just talking about that before you came, actually. Just relaxing in the common room. A few of us. The fun ones,” he said, nudging Harry and grinning. 

“Now, ROn. If we are going to do something, we’re going to include everyone.”

“What, even Pansy? You can’t like sharing a dormitory with her. She’s dreadful!” Rom exclaimed, receiving smack on the arm for Hermione for him tactlessness. 

“Just because I don’t like her does not mean I dislike her. She’s not as bad as you might think, you know. Besides, you can’t make comments like that when you have no idea how close she may be. As a matter of fact, you just shouldn’t make comments like that!” Ron sighed. 

“Okay, you’re right. As always. I’m sorry,” he responded, and reached across the table for Hermione’s hand. 

“So everyone in the common room tonight. I’ll pass it around,” Hermione said. Harry groaned internally. He realised his friends were trying to be helpful, but the last thing he wanted was to see Malfoy and other people intentionally while he felt like such a mess. However, there was a chance, slight as it was, that it would work, and so, Harry acquiesced. 

*

It was the first time they had all sat in the common room together, and Harry had to admit it was a bit weird. Despite being in the same year of school from anywhere between six and seven years before, not everyone was on speaking terms with one another.  
The conversation was polite, yet uninteresting, and it came to a point when Pansy got sick of it. 

“Ugh, okay. Time for honesty hour?” she asked. The girls in the group looked excited, along with a few of the boys. Dean and Seamus looked at one another in confusion and then at Pansy. 

“Is it a game of some kind?” asked Dean. Pansy sighed in exasperation. 

“Of sorts, I suppose. I can’t believe you’ve never done honesty hour! None of the Gryffindor boys? What do Gryffindor boys even do?” She tossed her hands up in despair. 

“We’re not Gryffindors anymore, Pansy,” said Lavender in a disapproving tone. “At least not technically.” Lavender turned towards the rest of the group. “Someone casts a Verus dome around everyone included, and then people ask each other questions. You have to tell the truth. Otherwise the dome will shift and cut you out of the group. And that’s no fun so tell the truth. You all in?” People agreed, nodding at one another. 

“Oh this is ridiculous. There’s no way I’m going to be a part of this,” said a disgusted yet slightly fearful looking Malfoy, standing up from his armchair. Harry smirked at him. 

“Why’s that, Malfoy? Are you scared of anything?” Malfoy glared down at him from where he stood, yet the corner of his mouth twitched upwards as he spoke. 

“Scared, Potter.” It was a challenge that Malfoy had used many times before and it brought back memories. He sat back down in the grey armchair and interlaced his fingers before him, as if he meant business. 

“I suppose that’s all of us then,” Padma Patil noted, and she stood. “Verum Tholus,” she said and swept her wand around the group, causing a dome of pale blue light to encase them. It was pleasant. Safe. “From now on, anything false someone says can get them get out of the dome,” she announced before sitting again. Harry raised his hand slightly, about to make a point. 

“Sorry could we just add… one rule? Nothing… disrespectful. For anyone…. I mean… you all know what I mean.” Everyone knew. Nothing sensitive about family members or the war that had ended. He half expected Malfoy to speak up when he said this, but looking over into the grey armchair, Malfoy’s eyes were lowered and he looked faintly relieved, although Harry was fairly certain no one else could read that boy’s face like he could. He’d studied it while following Malfoy around in sixth year, and every year of Hogwarts before that, and old habits die hard. He was okay with that. 

“Well then, as you made that rule, why don’t you start, Potter?” said Blaise in a bored voice. Okay then. Who to ask? What to ask? 

“Ron. Are the room assignments the best you could want?” he asked with a grin. Ron looked self conscious. “There’s a right answer here.”

“Um… no. Sorry, mate,” he said quietly. Harry sighed and laughed softly before ruffling his hair. 

“How dare you, Ronald? How dare you want to sleep with your girlfriend more than with me?” A few people chuckled. 

The game continued. Pansy would rather give up Hogwarts than chocolate. Hermione would rather be a Muggle than not complete her NEWT’s. Justin Finch Fletchley found the snake door a discomfort because he still was slightly afraid of them. Blaise had used a love potion to get a date before.  
Harry was just thinking that he wasn’t looking forward to the question coming back round to him, when Michael Corner brought his name up. 

“Uh… Harry.” Harry’s head jerked up. “You don’t like these dormitories and most of us have never seen this part of the castle before. What… what is it?” Michael sounded apprehensive about asking, as if he wasn’t sure if it would count as a sensitive topic. Harry supposed it didn’t. Not really. 

“Ah. I was wondering when people would get around to asking that. It’s… well, it used to be the Chamber of Secrets, actually,” he said, cautiously, attempting to tiptoe around the awful topic that would arise. Fully aware of Justin and Malfoy in the room, who were guaranteed to have opposite responses.  
Sure enough, Justin’s whole body seemed to seize up a little.  
“I know. It’s not the most pleasant thing.” Michael looked around, nodding slightly, trying to accept what Harry had just said. 

“Right… I mean, I really don’t see why they’d do that. Especially since…” he glanced between Justin and Hermione. “But hey, at least we all know for sure it’s real now. Loads of people still thought they were rumours with something else behind it. I know I did.” 

“Fuck,” said Seamus. “That’s dark. I had no idea!” He paused, then grinned. “It’s a bit exciting though. It’s like we’re reclaiming it after everything that happened here.” Seamus grinned and nudged Dean. 

“That’s what we tried to tell him. We’re the interhouse warriors, bringing happiness to a place of… darkness and slime. And bones,” Ron exclaimed, gesturing with his hands. Seamus laughed. 

“Slime and bones?” he asked, puzzled. 

“Oh yeah,” Ron replied. “This place was absolutely littered with rat bones and slime. Way back when. Still was last year actually.” Ron went on to tell about his own little heroic journey down to the Chamber during the Battle of Hogwarts. A fair few people nodded, impressed, but Harry and Hermione caught each other's’ eyes and shook their heads. Ron was truly impossible. 

“Well at least it explains why I feel like a Slytherin still, down here,” Blaise said, leisurely, stretching out in his armchair. 

“Shut up, Blaise,” Malfoy said, his eyes lowered. Blaise looked as if he was about to speak again. “I said shut up.” Harry was surprised, as was everyone else. 

Ernie MacMillan put a hand on Justin’s shoulder to reassure him.  
“Right, yup. That’s where we are. So… Malfoy.” Draco’s head shot up. “What are your feelings about the Eighth years being all together and not part of our old houses?” he asked, straightening his glasses.  
Draco Malfoy looked conflicted, but then resigned himself. 

“Not as bad as I thought I would. I’m still a Slytherin, but I’m more than a Slytherin. Besides, it’s less likely that I’ll be shunned by all of you than by them. A few of you actually understand, somewhat.” Malfoy shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He looked agitated and then sneered: “Shut up, Potter. That was an awful question. Merlin, I hate you.” 

The dome flickered then, and altered its shape, cutting Malfoy out of the group. Everyone glanced in his direction through the dome and saw him leave, then looked at Harry who was still staring after Malfoy.  
Curious, he thought, for now he knew he wasn’t the subject of hatred in Draco Malfoy’s eyes, as he had thought. 

*

“Mister Potter, will you at least try to pay attention?” came a disgruntled yell from the front of the room. The shout roused Harry from the sleep he’d been in, and he opened his eyes, blinking. 

“S- sorry Professor,” he yawned. On his left, Hermione gave him a disapproving look. 

“Potter, this is a difficult and important practical lesson that requires your concentration. If you are not able to concentrate, there is nothing I can do for you.” Professor Maillen, the transfiguration teacher walked down between the desks towards him. He was short, but had strong features. He was broad yet well built and kept his facial hair to a dusted stubble. Harry didn’t like to upset him by falling asleep, but it was just too easy, since he still wasn’t sleeping at night.  
“I understand that you will most likely come in next class being able to perform this task perfectly, as with so many others, but your falling asleep is a distraction in my classroom. So please, if you will.” Harry gulped and nodded. 

“Yes Professor. I apologise.” Harry sat up straighter in his chair and looked down at the book in front of him. 

“If you weren’t afraid of a dead snake, you wouldn’t have this problem,” Malfoy drawled from the desk behind him. Harry seethed, digging his nails into the wooden desk. “Although, if you weren't hot for the Professor, you wouldn’t worry about this problem nearly so much.” Harry whipped around as Malfoy chuckled. 

“Will you shut it? God, stop being so… presumptuous” he hissed through his teeth. 

“Temper, temper. You look like you could use some sleep is all. My, Potter. You do me a great dishonour by thinking so ill of me,” Draco replied in a low voice, smirking and admiring his wand.  
Harry scoffed and turned back around to face the front. Sure, Professor Maillen wasn’t unattractive and his accent sounded pleasant, but that had nothing to do with anything. He was a good teacher. Harry wasn’t sure how Malfoy managed to get under his skin so easily, but it was quite difficult to avoid or ignore. Maybe it was his voice. If Malfoy would just shut up, things would be easier. Harry could almost feel those pale eyes boring into the back of him, taunting him. 

It didn’t help that Malfoy was taking most of the same classes as Harry either. Or that he performed better in most during the class. This was probably due to how tired he was all the time, Harry told himself. Sustaining a patronus, doing schoolwork, and trying to add to the Marauders’ Map every night was exhausting. Otherwise he’d clearly be better. 

 

Once out of class, Harry saw Malfoy glance at him, smirking. Whatever it wa he was thinking couldn’t be that dreadful. He didn’t hate Harry after all. At this thought, Harry found himself smiling, and turned it into a self-satisfied grin. 

Ginny rounded the corner then and put a hand on Harry’s chest. 

“Hey there, handsome. Fancy running into you.” She grinned up at him. Harry put a hand around the back of her neck and kissed her. She was lovely and kind to Harry. She pulled back then and took a good look at him.  
“Sorry, dear, I take that back. You look dreadful. Are you still not sleeping?” Harry yawned and mumbled something incoherent. “Harry you have to do something about this.” He put an arm around Ginny’s shoulders and walked off in the direction in the great hall for lunch, guiding her along with him. 

“I am doing something about it. I sleep during the day.” She poked Harry in the ribs. 

“During class doesn’t count. That’s a terrible way to handle things, especially when your classes are so small now anyway. You’re here for ‘eighth year’ for a reason,” she told him, using finger quotes. Harry sighed. 

“Yes, and I’m doing alright. Just not while I’m actually in the classroom. I have time to catch up every night,” he mumbled. 

“Yeah well, you’d better sleep after classes today. And during any free blocks you have in that case. But at some point you’re going to have to sleep down there. Even I would have by now,” Ginny responded. “And please don’t tell me it’s different. Because that would be insulting, and you know it. Also, I was going to ask if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade for a drink later, but I think you should sleep instead. The restricted section of the library has a lovely soft sofa around the back.” She looked up at him as they walked, and Harry squeezed her shoulder. 

“Thanks Ginny. You’re the best,” he told her as they entered the great hall. She turned to face him. 

“Mmm, I know,” she said, and kissed him, before grinning mischievously and walking off towards the Gryffindor table. 

*

Harry took Ginny’s advice and found the sofa at the back of the library. It was by a window under some low rafters across the ceiling. He was just drifting out of consciousness when that familiar drawl sounded up too close for comfort.  
To be fair, Harry thought, anytime he could hear Malfoy’s voice, the bloke was too close for comfort. 

“Clearly some of us do require some work to look any good. And when that’s taken away, well, I daresay their looks simply continue to plummet. Making up for that much lost time with an hour or two isn’t going to help, Potter,” he said, looking lazily along the row of books nearest Harry. He groaned, then looked up a little. 

“Sorry, Malfoy. Correct me if I’m wrong but that was in fact a backhanded compliment?” he said, looking utterly bewildered by this. Malfoy shook his head. 

“Well in that case, I’ll have to take it back. I don’t do compliments. But really. You must get over this whole ‘Chamber of Secrets’ thing. It bothers no one but you.” Harry let his head fall back onto the cushion he had placed beneath it, but not taking his eyes off Draco’s back. It was so irritating- being spoken to by hi, but never looked at. 

“Do us both a favour, Malfoy, and clear off,” Harry said. Draco turned only his head towards Harry. 

“I am here for a reason you know, and that does not have anything to do with you. This is a library after all. We have dormitories for sleeping in.” Malfoy turned back towards the bookshelf.  
Harry raised his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He had to admit it- Malfoy, frustratingly enough, had a point. So he watched the blonde boy taking an infuriating amount of time to choose a book instead. He left without another word. 

He could at least have said something along the lines of announcing he was leaving, Harry thought, then caught himself. He really shouldn’t care this much. He was being ridiculous. Still annoyed at himself, and at Malfoy, Harry slept. 

*

It was one in the morning. Harry had given up on trying to sleep at night altogether. He sat in the eighth year common room on a grey armchair beside the fireplace, pouring over the Marauders’ Map. It had been close to two weeks now, and he- with the help of the Marauders locked inside the map had figured out how to place the Chamber on the map.  
Harry pointed his wand at the new piece of parchment attached cleanly to the map. 

“Locusma,” he whispered and dark lines appeared on the page, showing the chamber as it currently was. “Volgus,” Harry muttered then, and the labelled names of the eighth years appeared, the dark lines spidering across the page.  
He sighed, the corners of his mouth jerking upwards as his eyes scanned the dormitories. Everything seemed to be as it should be. He let his eyes wander from room to room. Everyone seemed to be in bed. He stopped on Malfoy and Blaise Zabini’s room. Malfoy’s label was moving. It moved towards the end of the bed and across the room before it left. Malfoy was coming towards the common room. Harry looked up in the direction of that pipe corridor, and sure enough, a pale head soon appeared at the mouth. 

“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” Harry spat, hastily sticking the map under a cushion and standing up defensively. He saw Malfoy gulp. 

“Easy there, Potter. Not everything I do is about you, you know, contrary to what you may otherwise believe.” His voice was slightly hoarse, and he didn’t look to be his usual perfect self. His eyes looked slightly red. Harry stumbled over his words, slightly. 

“No I… I didn’t mean that… I was just making sure that you’re not… scheming or anything.” He felt his face going red. 

“Now then, Potter, has no one else gotten up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom? It’s been about two weeks. One would think you’d have this done by now. Or perhaps you were too... unobservant to notice.” Harry supposed others must have done, and Malfoy was right. He hadn’t noticed. Why did he almost always have to be right about these things? Not when it came to morals, but still. 

“Well go then. Don’t hang around,” Harry said, gesturing to Malfoy that he should sweep off. 

“I… I will?” it sounded like a question, though it wasn’t one, and Harry watched the boy’s silver satin pajamas disappear around the corner before sitting back down, eyes on the map. He tracked Malfoy making his way back to his room, and kept his eyes on that label which read ‘Draco Malfoy’ for a few minutes more. It wasn’t his fault the guy was turning up all over the place, and as he’d thought the previous week, old habits die hard. 

It was only a few minutes more before Hannah Abbott’s name moved towards the common room. Sure enough, he wouldn’t have heard her if he weren’t paying attention. It was true then. He’ been stupid earlier.  
As he was closing the map, about to say the words to wipe it blank, other words appeared on the front of the map. 

‘Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs would like to compliment Mister Potter, label him as extremely intelligent, are very impressed, and thank him most kindly.’ 

Harry blinked away the tears gathering in his eyes, and did not wipe the map, hoping that the message would remain there just a little longer.  
The Marauders’ school years’ spirits were trapped inside the map, and Harry wouldn’t have had it any other way- a piece of people he loved just to cling onto. 

Albus Dumbledore had one asked Harry if he believed if those who loved them ever truly left them, and in that particular moment as he sat by the fireplace, Harry wished he could say he didn’t, but it would have been a lie. In that moment, Harry Potter could not have felt more alone, surrounded by the memory of those who were no more, and those who he could not feel close to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made myself sad at the end there. Oops.  
> More Drarry coming next chapter!


	3. Do It Now, Remember It Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny has news. Who will take it well?
> 
> Something curious is going on with Malfoy which leads to an interesting Transfiguration lesson...

_We'll stare straight-faced, don't hesitate_   
_See, why would we want to make you bastards wait_   
_Thank god, I got this chance, now I can say_   
_So now we'll say, we'll say_   
_We're gonna do what we want_

October was always a crazy month for Hogwarts students, as that was when the homework started to pile up a bit. Hermione was spending more time in the library, and Ron, being incredibly stressed about it all, tried to join her. Only Harry seemed alright about it, although he was terribly exhausted at all times. He used the extra time to catch up on sleep, either out in the grounds or in the library. It was a golden October, which left the weather outside sunny with a pleasant breeze most of the time.

Although Harry and Ginny had not seen much of one another, they’d caught each other at least once a day in the hallways, so Harry put aside this spare Saturday to spend time with her, Ron and Hermione. It wasn’t much, but it would be relaxing. The sun was out, and there was nothing Harry would rather be doing. 

Harry, Ron and Hermione walked together to the edge of the lake and Ron laid out his winter cloak that he’d brought up for them all to sit on. 

“Just a question, Harry, but how are you not dead yet? I mean how much sleep do you get each night, my mall nocturnal friend?” ROn asked stretching out on his cloak. Harry stared at him. 

“Um, okay first of all, just because I’m shorter than you, you beanpole, doesn’t make me small. In fact, I’m taller than average height. Second of all, I get almost six hours of sleep every day, which I’d say is rather good, considering I am quickly becoming nocturnal, although no one around me seems to respect that. Besides, I’m quite used to it by now,” Harry said, opening the basket of sandwiches he’d gotten from the house elves in the kitchens earlier that day and tossing one at Ron before taking one for himself. Hermione shook her head at him. 

“Six hours really isn’t enough you know, Harry. Besides, your sleep schedule is completely ridiculous. Now, I know you won’t go to Madame Pomfrey, and although I think that’s a bad decision you’re making, haven’t you considered just sneaking out at night? Leaving the Chamber and sleeping somewhere- anywhere else? Really, Harry.” She looked so concerned that Harry felt worse for her than for himself. 

He had thought about it a little, he admitted to himself, and if he was honest with himself, it would probably help. It was also possible that it would feel just as, or even more strange. Harry chose not to comment, and fortunately, Ginny arrived at that precise moment, throwing herself onto the ground and crossing her legs. 

“I have big news,” she said, cutting off the three who were greeting her. She looked excited, and a little nervous, and was slightly pink from exertion under her freckles. 

“Ooh, how exciting! Let’s hear it,” Hermione said, shuffling towards Ginny with anticipation. Ginny took in a deep breath and looked from face to face, as if trying to keep them on edge and predict their reactions all at once. 

“Spit it out, Ginny,” Ron said, exasperatedly. 

“I’m going to enter the Triwizard Tournament!” she announced, her body tense with excitement. Ron’s face went scarlet as his expression became appalled. 

“Ginny, no. There is no way-” he began, but his sister cut him off. 

“Ron, I’m of age! I’m allowed to if I want. And you have no right to tell me otherwise. Besides I wasn’t asking you, I was just telling you what I plan to do in a few weeks when the other schools arrive.” Harry, too, was apprehensive about Ginny’s actions, but he did his best not to let on. 

“Well, if that’s what you want to do, Ginny, then I guess I’m behind you. Not like I could stop you if I wanted to,” Harry said and winked at her. Ginny took his hand and squeezed it. 

“I think it’s fantastic. I’d love to see a Gryffindor as the official Hogwarts champion this time around, and you’d be great,” Hermione said, smiling at Ginny. Harry looked over at her, mocking being offended. 

“Excuse me, Hermione. Are you trying to say I wasn’t a real champion?” he asked, gesturing to himself. I was fantastic, thank you very much!” Hermione sighed at him. 

“Yes, well, for a fourteen year old with lots of hints, I suppose you were alright,”she teased. Harry shook his head in faux disgrace. 

“Ginny, I really don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t want my little sister getting hurt!” Ron said indignantly. “Have you told mum and dad? Or anyone else yet?” Ginny shrugged at her brother. 

“I think it’s a good idea. I don’t really care what you think. And no. I told Luna and Neville because I saw them early this morning, but no one else yet. I only told you because I thought you’d all be excited for me. And Hermione is the only one who completely seems to be,” she said, giving Hermione a quick grin. 

“I’m just saying what I think is best for you,” yelled Ron. Ginny pushed herself up off the ground then, looking hurt. 

“I think I can figure out what’s best for myself thanks. And if that’s how you’re going to be, then I think I’ll find somewhere where my company and ambition is more appreciated,” Ginny yelled back at him turning and stomping back towards the castle. Harry looked down at his sandwich, then back up at Ron. 

“She’s right, Ron. She’s of age, and if she does get chosen, she’ll do so well, you know,” Harry said, before taking a bite out of the sandwich. 

“I’m with Harry on this one. I can hardly imagine a better champion for Hogwarts to have than Ginny. She awfully talented, and very athletic. She’ll go so far! What has she got to lose?” Hermione asked Ron who looked back at her incredulously. 

“You’ve got to be joking! What’s she got to lose? Oh I dunno, maybe… her life?” Ron exclaimed. Hermione rolled her eyes. 

“Oh honestly Ron, don’t be so ridiculous. The safety precautions are going to be insane this year. You’ll see. You should hardly be surprised that she’s entering, anyway. Besides, there’s a chance she may not even get chosen. Pass me a sandwich, Harry?”   
Ron shook his head and mumbled something about Ministry safety under his breath before stuffing half his sandwich into his mouth. 

*

That night, Harry decided to take Hermione’s advice and sneak out with his invisibility cloak to find somewhere else to sleep, but to no avail. If he’d had someone else with him- Ginny perhaps, or Ron and Hermione, things would be different, and sleeping would have come easily. It was true, however, that Harry was very close to becoming mostly nocturnal.   
He considered for a short while going down to Hagrid’s, but he couldn’t disturb his old friend at two in the morning, so after wandering around for hours, Harry retreated to what was once Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, and took the stairs down. 

After opening the heavy, iron, snake-encrusted door to the common room, he froze and waited for the door to shut silently behind him. Harry’s invisibility cloak was already stowed away in his robes, and there by the fire that seemed to be fizzling out into embers was the unmistakable slender, white blonde headed form of Draco Malfoy sitting in Harry’s usual grey armchair by the fire, shaking just the tiniest bit. 

Harry tip toed towards the fireplace, doing his best not to make a sound so that Malfoy couldn’t just run off as soon as he heard him. What could he possibly be doing up at half past two in the morning? Harry didn’t want to jump to conclusions again, but surely something about Malfoy’s actions wasn’t right this time.   
The closer Harry got, the better his view of Malfoy’s pointed, angular face, which was usually so dignified, elegant and condescending. Now, however, it looked like it had that day in sixth year while Harry had watched him try and fail to kill Dumbledore. There was a piece of folded parchment on the low table before him. 

Reconsidering being snide, Harry opted to attempt to be comforting, although he expected that to go just as badly, if he was honest with himself. Gently, carefully, Harry stood right next to the armchair. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, his tone coming out sappier than he was intending, making his stomach clench a little. This was an unfamiliar atmosphere and way of behaving between Harry and Malfoy, and Harry wasn’t yet sure how it was supposed to work. But apparently, it didn’t work at all, because Malfoy stood up abruptly, whipping around and making his face scornful. He folded his arms across his chest, the silver satin of his pajamas shifting, changing the way the firelight hit it, and reflecting the warm red glow onto him pale features. 

“What do you want, Potter? I was wondering when you’d show up. After all, you wouldn’t miss a chance to impose on somebody else’s privacy.” He grew hasty and slightly flustered then. “We- we aren’t friends, and we don’t ‘share things’ or do feelings. I was just leaving, besides,” Malfoy said, and did exactly that, stalking a little too quickly to be natural out of the common room. Harry stood there until he could no longer hear footsteps, staring at the spot where Draco had disappeared before sighing and taking the previously occupied seat. 

There was a sinking feeling in his stomach from what had just happened, yet he couldn’t place it in his mind. Trying to shake it off, Harry pulled out his wand and conjured up wisps of a patronus, eyes tracing the swirls in the small silver waves before he decided to bring back the full form. He pulled out his homework, which he’d taken to keeping under the armchair and put it on the low dark wood of the coffee table by the fire. It was only then that he again took notice of the piece of folded parchment that lay right there. 

It had been there while Malfoy was sitting. Was it his? It would have been quite likely. Should he look at it? Harry couldn’t help himself. Glancing around to make sure nobody was around, he reached cautiously forwards and plucked the piece of parchment off the table. It was folded only once, and when Harry unfolded it, he saw messy, loopy green ink splayed across it. It was addressed at the top- a letter, then. 

His eyes scanned the bottom of the page to find a name, and what he found was ‘your father (Lucius).’ Harry looked back to the top of the page and read the first line of the letter, then stopped. This was a total invasion of privacy, he recognised. This was something first-year-Harry would have felt entitled to do. Reconsidering that fact, even sixth-year-Harry would have felt entitled to read Malfoy’s letters, but there was no need to now. He wasn’t being safe, he was being rude and dreadfully invasive. 

It took Harry more mental effort than e would have cared to admit to fold the letter back up and stick it into his robes to return to Malfoy the following day, but he managed. Although, from the one line that he had read, Harry wondered why Malfoy had been so upset by it. Surely that didn’t quite make sense… What was going on in Draco’s mind to make him so afraid? 

*

“You’ve definitely gotten the hang of this sleeping whenever you can thing, Harry. Honestly, it’s been more than a month! Don’t know how you do it. Although it is nice to have a room all to myself,” Ron was saying as they walked towards the Transfiguration classroom the following morning.   
It was true that Harry was feeling tired less and less, and was sleeping most of his days away- between classes, through most of every mealtime, and after classes before dinner, but at this particular point in time, Harry’s mind wasn’t on sleep, as rare as that was these days. He was scouting for a blonde head in the crowd of people leaving the great hall. 

“Hmm? Yeah,” he said absentmindedly. Ron stared at him brow furrowed. 

“Seems like you could use more though. You have no idea what I just said, do you?” 

“Yup,” Harry said as they turned in through the wooden doors into the classroom just before the bell rang. He spotted Draco over in the corner of the room, and abandoned Ron and Hermione then. “Hey, Malfoy!” Ron just stared after him in disbelief. 

“Potter, what is it now?” Draco said, sounding exasperated and not meeting Harry’s eye. Harry pulled the letter out of his robes and held it out just in front of him. Malfoy’s eyes snapped onto him and snatched the parchment out of his hands before Harry could say anything else. “You’d do well to mind your own business in the future, although you really don’t seem capable of that,” Malfoy snapped, just as the bell rang for the start of class and Professor Maillen appeared from his office door behind his desk. 

“You little-” Harry began, advancing, his hands balled up into fists, a twisted ball of anger burning in his stomach, but the Professor cut him off. 

“Alright class, settle down. But no-” he began as people took their seats. “Oh no, don’t sit down yet. Just stay exactly where. You. Are.” He was smiling at them, and the students exchanged befuddled glances. “We’re doing something a bit different today. A fun class, if you will, as you are all performing rather well, if I may say so. We’re a little ahead in the curriculum, which makes today possible. We will be working in pairs today.” This caused almost everyone to make knowing eye contact with their best mates for a brief second, but the Professor shook his head. 

“No, no. No need to look so excited, all of you. I have paired you up myself, although I do not think that there will be any issues for any of you. This class is only eight people so… Patil and Boot,” Professor Maillen began, pointing at the students as he named them.   
“Granger and Parkinson.” Hermione always seemed to be stuck with Pansy these days. Harry pitied her. There was still a chance for him though. If only...   
“Weasley and Corner.” Fuck. “Which leaves Malfoy and Potter. Perfect. Let’s get cracking, shall we?”   
This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Now really was not a good time. Not when Malfoy had just begun to get on his nerves that day. It could only get worse. 

Stupid Professor Maillen and his stupid so called ‘fun’ classes and his stupid pairs. However, Harry remained where he was, too proud to complain about the arrangements. Beside him, Malfoy’s prominent jawline was clenched tight. 

With a swish of his wand, Professor Maillen stacked all the desks in the corner of the room. Another swoop of his arm opened the door to his office and sent eight small easels soaring into the classroom, landing in pairs directly across from one another evenly spaced throughout the room. 

“Please, take a seat in front of an easel. Yes, on the floor, Miss Patil. I assure you it is quite clean. Mister Potter, could you come and help me with these slates?” As everyone else was sitting, Harry walked the short distance to the front of the room where the Professor was holding a pile of eight pieces of brittle slate rock with his wand, each flat and smooth as the next. Harry used his own wand to distribute the slates onto each easel in turn before taking a seat on the floor across from Malfoy. 

“Today we will be learning to capture and impression. A moment. Our emotions. All of that all on a flat surface. In this case, slate, as it is so accessible to us,” Professor Maillen explained, walking through the classroom, clearly passionate about the topic. “To begin with learning this, we will be practicing creating the impression of something or- someONE in this case, that we can see. Namely, the person across from you.” 

Malfoy’s head jerked to look at Harry, and a disgusted sneer grew upon his face. Harry glared at him before looking back up at the teacher.

“This task requires you to use your emotions, and that will be evident. An impression such as this is somewhat like a painting or a photograph. However, as I said, it is about how strongly you yourself feel about the subject of the impression, and it is simply a moment caught in time. So yes, it will move. Slightly. But it will not take on a life of its own, as it is YOUR impression of the subject, and yours alone.” 

Harry gulped, suddenly nervous about this task. Because, well, it was no secret to anyone how strongly Malfoy and Harry disliked one another, but this wasn’t something Harry wanted to show so concretely. Glancing across at the blonde, Harry noticed that he too seemed apprehensive about the task at hand after this information. 

Taking a slate off his table, the professor turned to demonstrate the task at hand.   
“What you will do is bring to mind everything you may think or feel about this subject. Don’t worry. If you don’t like the person, it won’t turn out ugly. Just picture the essence of the person in front of you as vividly as possible. Whatever that essence may be to you.   
Then, lay the tip of your wand on the slate and say ‘Fairth Imprus.’ And remember, let your feelings pour into it, and your wand will love them to the slate. Like this.” 

The Professor closed his eyes and let his wand run over the slate he was holding. Vibrant colours spread across the grey stone creating an image of a mountainside with wind rustling the trees and flowers visible on the hill from where the image was taken. 

“Of course, this is from memory, not from sight. This is more difficult to create. Now remember the words: ‘Fairth Imprus.’ Repeating the attempt on the same slate will make no difference to the impression. Have fun you lot! I will walk around the classroom observing your attempts and helping anyone who needs it.”

At least I have someone I know a lot about, Harry thought to himself. He imagined being Ron at that moment. Neither he nor Ron had ever been particularly fond of Michael Corner, nor did they really know anything about him. He looked at Malfoy who was shaking his head. 

“At least you get to look at something pleasant, Potter. I have to try and recreate a sleep-deprived idiot.” Harry rolled his eyes at this feeble insult. 

“Shut up, Malfoy. Let’s at least try to get something done,” he said, scowling, digging his nails into his crossed legs, and beginning to focus on Draco’s features. Malfoy looked back at him, and it soon started to feel like somewhat of a glaring contest. Harry soon felt rather self conscious, but did not look away. Again, pride prevented that. His eyes traced the pale pointed nose and chin, followed the contours of the high cheekbones and the wires in the grey blue eyes.

Harry caught himself then. WHat was he doing? He knew Malfoy’s face. He was just stalling at this point. Malfoy’s face was one he had know off by heart for a good long while, and Harry knew that this was something that went both ways. 

Malfoy almost seemed to be mirroring him as Harry moved his wand and his lips without making a sound. Picturing the cocky yet calculated smirk Malfoy had so often given him before when taunting him, letting all his frustration and exasperation at the boy come to the front of his mind and felt it all seeping out in that moment through his wand as it moved smoothly across the slate as Draco Malfoy’s wand hand moved simultaneously.   
They scowled at one another as they worked, feeling the colours slowly but surely appear on the slate, yet neither boy looked down to see the progress, refusing to break concentration. 

It was taking the pair of them much longer than it had taken Professor Maillen to produce a full impression, but Harry found it both very intense and very relaxing. He doubted it would have been so intense if Draco Malfoy hadn’t been glaring at him the whole time, obligating him to glower back. 

Harry’s flow of feeling and wand movement failed then, and his wand arm dropped back onto his lap, but Malfoy’s lasted a little longer. 

“Will everyone pause for a moment please?” Professor Maillen called, causing everyone to look up at where he was standing, behind Hermione. I’m not sure if you all realise how time has been passing, but we have been here nearly our whole class hour.” 

“Don’t I know it,” he heard Ron breathe from a few meters away. Harry, however, was shocked. It hardly felt like it. 

“Who here has succeeded in creating an impression which is anything close to full?” Professor Maillen asked. Four hands were raised- namely Hermione’s, Padma’s, Pansy’s and Malfoy’s. Harry looked down at his slate to find that the grey of the slate was entirely gone. In its place was a close up of Malfoy’s face which would glance down, up at Harry in a smirk and then away, a blue light dancing across the planes of his face and the castle grounds in the moonlight in the background. 

Harry was dumbfounded. He’d had no idea that that was what he’s created. It was beautiful? Damnit, why did it have to be beautiful? But he raised his hand somewhat into the air.   
“Five out of eight. That isn’t so bad. I’m impressed. And now we will observe everyone’s… dare I say… heartwork?” Maillen chuckled and several students groaned at the awful pun. “As I said, how strongly you are able to project your feelings determines how vivid the impression will be.”

He swept around the room with his wand and the slates went flying towards the back wall. Harry was a split second too late to grab hold of his to prevent it from being put on the wall. He swore under his breath and punched the wall to his left. 

“Easy there. Got something to hide? Ashamed of your… impression of me?” Malfoy drawled, giving Harry a very similar smirk to the one on the slate. Harry felt his stomach clench.   
As everyone else moved towards the front of the room, Harry remained where he was before Ron offered his hand and tugged him up from the floor. 

One by one, Professor Maillen performed a sticking charm to hold each slate to the wall. Harry stood next to Ron and didn’t say a word. Some of the impressions were quite good, like Hermione’s and those belonging to the others who had raised their hands. Ron groaned as his was put up. It was very faint and didn’t even move, but Michael Corner’s was nearly as bad. 

Harry’s went up as Draco’s did and everyone who had been in deep discussion about the other works suddenly fell silent. Harry looked his serious face against a deep sunset. He looked stern and decisive and yet still, the impression was just as… as beautiful… as his was. Professor Maillen spoke up. 

“Ah, you see everyone? THIS is an impression. These have feeling and heart to them. These are very strong. I would award house points, yet I have no house to give them to,” he said, smiling from Draco to Harry. “See the clear colours. Even the adding of subject matter that was not present. The moonlight in this and the red sunset in that. They compliment one another. This is ART. This is beautiful. I interpret that you are fond of each other, yes?” 

“No,” Harry and Malfoy said together in very certain tones as Ron and Pansy both guffawed. Professor Maillen raised an eyebrow at them but did not protest. 

“Well in that case, the amount of emotion, be it positive or negative, that you managed to find and pour into these is impressive to say the least.Would anyone here like to keep their impressions, or shall I wipe them?” Nobody wanted theirs. “If that is all, I would like to say well done to our two star pupils of the day, and thank you for staying awake this class Mister Potter. We may revisit impressions at a later date, but if you enjoyed the practice, please do continue to create. Class dismissed.” 

Although Harry was pleased that Professor Maillen was pleased, he felt humiliated by his work and sure enough, neither Ron nor Hermione brought it up that day. Nor did Malfoy do so much as make eye contact with him. He was, presumably, just as embarrassed as Harry felt.   
It was aggravating- he had enjoyed creating that impression if he was honest, but then it just came around to bite him back. 

*

Examining the Marauders’ Map that night, it was the first time in a while that Harry had spotted anything curious in sight, and that was that both Hermione and Pansy were awake at one in the morning sitting together on Pansy’s bed, and they seemed to be having a conversation of some kind. 

How odd, Harry thought. Hermione and Pansy. He never would have thought them capable of becoming friends, yet perhaps he’d been shortsighted. Perhaps…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave any thoughts or comments! I'd love to hear from any one of you who is a reader ^^
> 
> You know, I don't mind this chapter, I'm just not sure of it. Very excited for the next one though!


	4. I Will Survive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Triwizard schools arrive, and the champion is selected. Definitely just three this time. What sort of social matters could go wrong?

_Oh, as long as I know how to love, I know I'll stay alive_   
_I've got all my life to live_   
_And I've got all my love to give and I'll survive_

It was here- the day before Halloween and students got out of class early to receive some extra information about the Triwizard Tournament and to welcome the students of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. 

Around two o’clock, students left class and made their way to the Great Hall. There was a great amount of bustle and excitement, particularly around the younger students who hadn’t seen people from other wizarding schools before. Many were asking the older students how they would arrive, what they would wear, and everyone was discussing which Hogwarts student would be selected. 

“Any of you going to enter?” Neville asked as he came up beside Harry, Ron and Hermione. 

“No,” they said simultaneously. Harry gave a weak laugh. 

“You should though, Neville! I think you’d be great,” Hermione said giving him a smile. Neville shrugged, blushing. 

“I was thinking about it. But I don’t think eighth years can enter.” Ron did a doubletake. 

“What? Why is that?” 

“Because we’re technically not _exactly_ part of the school anymore. We’re not supposed to count. There isn’t supposed to be an eighth year. Mind you, McGonagall hasn’t said anything about it yet. I don’t even know if she mentioned the whole age thing at all, come to think of it,” Neville explained. 

“Probably what this meeting this is about then,” Harry said, yawning. He was having a bad day. There was no way he’d get to sleep again that afternoon. The time was fully booked, but as soon as ten o’clock rolled around, he knew he’d be quite wide awake again. 

“Potter,” came a voice, spitting from the side of the hallway. Harry looked up. “Potter!” it came again, louder, and Draco Malfoy tugged on Harry’s wrist, pulling him away from the crowd headed to the great hall and into a deserted side corridor, grabbing onto the front of his robes. 

“What the fuck is this all about? If you wanted company in an empty hallway, you could have just asked. Not that you would have gotten a positive response.” Malfoy glared down at Harry but didn’t let go of his robes. He was an infuriating two inches taller than Harry. It wasn’t much but it was enough to be frustrating. SInce that humiliating Transfiguration class a few days earlier, he hadn’t spoken to Harry at all, yet Harry had still been watching him. The only thing worse than Malfoy talking to him was Malfoy _not_ talking to him. It was suspicious. 

“You flatter yourself Potter,” Malfoy snapped and pulled a folded piece of parchment out of his robes. “Look, I just want to know if you read this. Which I assume you did, invasive as you are.” Harry looked away, down the corridor. 

“Yes, okay, fine. I read one line. Just where he was asking you to visit. But that’s it, I promise.” Malfoy slowly let go of his robes which Harry hastened to straighten. He gulped to settle his turning stomach. 

“Fine. If you say so. I would have asked earlier, you know.”

“Oh, you could have, but I daresay that… class was humiliating enough for you to stay away from me,” Harry said, a smirk flickering at the edge of his mouth. 

“Fuck off, Potter. You took it worse than I did,” Malfoy scoffed, folding his arms. 

“Oh please” Harry responded, knowing that Draco was actually correct, but like he’d admit something like that. 

“You’re still not sleeping at normal hours. Everyone knows. But you should skip the assembly in the great hall and go wait outside. Catch up on some sleep. I doubt whatever McGonagall’s saying is very important.” Harry took a step back, puzzled. 

“That’s a great idea and all, but why do you care?” Malfoy gave a dry laugh. 

“Oh, I don’t. Not about you. It’s just that you staying in the common room every night makes everyone feel dreadfully uncomfortable. And absolutely exhausted you it a pain to deal with,” he claimed. “Not that any of us will be sleeping much tonight.” 

“Sorry, but why is that?” Harry asked, squinting at Malfoy. 

“Don’t apologise, Potter. You’ll see, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it,” Malfoy said with a smirk. God, Harry just wanted to shove him. “You go and rest. I’m sure I’ll see you later.” And with that, he stalked off. Harry, disgruntled as he was about it, took Malfoy’s advice and fell asleep in that very corridor and was only woken up when the feast commenced several hours later. 

*

“Trust you to skip the arrival of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang just to take a nap, Harry,” Ron said, shaking his head and chuckling. 

“Well he’d be closer to dead than he was last year if he didn’t take every sleep opportunity possible,” Hermione pointed out. 

“Hey, have you two heard about anything happening in our common room this evening? Malfoy was implying-” 

“Malfoy, Harry? Why were you talking to _him_?” Ron said. This got Hermione to shake his arm off from around her. 

“Really, Ron. I thought we talked about the whole Slytherin and past thing. Play nice. It isn’t as hard as you think,” she told him. 

“It is when it’s Malfoy,” Harry spat. Hermione sighed. 

“I know you didn’t want anyone to bring it up, but those impressions really did tell a different story, Harry.”

“Can you not? It’s embarrassing.” Hermione put her hands up in defence. 

“Fine, I was just saying that maybe you should think about where that came from. Anyway, yes I have heard a few people talking about coming to the eighth year common room, although I’m not entirely sure what all that’s about. Ginny probably knows. I think I just saw her.” Right. Ginny. Harry and her had drifted apart a little since coming back to school. He still liked her a lot, but not with the same magnitude or precise feeling as before. 

“Well, I guess we’ll find out either way.” 

 

Down in the common room, things were looking different. Most of the eighth year girls were in some kind of short or tight clothing, and the Patil twins appeared to be transforming the somewhat cozy common room into something close to a club. 

“What on earth is going on and how did I not know about any of this?” Ron asked. “More than that, how did _Harry_ not hear about this? He always hears about everything!” 

“Well, I did sort of. From Malfoy. I told you. I just didn’t know it was… this. I don’t know if I’m up for it, I’ll be honest.” 

“It’ll be fun, mate! You’re always exhausted. It’s time to let go a little! Look, there’s even Firewhiskey,” Ron said, clapping an arm around Harry’s shoulders and gesturing to a table at the front of the room. 

“Although tonight looks promising, I’m standing at the door for the first bit so we don’t get any underage students in here,” Hermione announced. 

“I bet it’s all hush hush, ´Mione. I mean we didn’t hear about it and it’s in our common room.” Hermione crossed her arms. 

“Fine. I’m going to get changed. I suggest you two do the same,” she announced before going to her dormitory. Ron shook his head at Harry but followed her lead and went to change, dragging Harry along with him. 

Harry was about to pull out his pale blue t-shirt he wore most days but after a flash of the Impression Malfoy had made of him ran through his head, opted for a short sleeved red button up instead. Not that choosing a shirt had anything to do with Malfoy or the mortifying(ly gorgeous) impression. 

*

Harry put off leaving his room for an hour or so, and once he did, the party was well underway, despite it only being nine o’clock. 

“Harry,” came Ginny’s voice over the sound of the Weird Sisters, and he spotted her through the flashing lights over by the drinks table next to a shorter pretty girl with dark hair and eyes. Harry made his way over. “Don’t you look dashing? Harry Potter, meet Teodora Kynev- Durmstrang extraordinaire who is hoping to become her school’s Triwizard champion.” 

“Hi, nice to meet you,” Harry said, offering a hand. Teodora glanced excitedly at Ginny, then up at Harry. 

“Wow.. this is truly an honour. Oh and uh… it’s Teo,” the girl replied, taking his hand. Teo was thin and quite tanned and looked very athletic. Her accent wasn’t heavy, but was certainly foreign. There were a few seconds of silence and then Harry and Ginny addressed one another at the same time. 

“Sorry,” said Ginny. “Can we talk for a moment?” Harry nodded. “Okay great.” Looking back around at Teo, Ginny told her: “Don’t go anywhere! I’ll be right back.” Teo nodded vigorously and Harry followed ginny off into a side pipe. 

“I was so sure I’d hate it down here, but I don’t know. It makes me feel sort of powerful,” Ginny said, giggling. “Sorry, hi. I’m… look. I’ve been thinking and…” Harry sighed with relief. 

“Look Ginny it’s fine. It’s true. We haven’t really been behaving like a couple lately.” Ginny let out the breath she’d clearly been holding. 

“Oh thank Merlin,” she said, and they both laughed. “I mean, I still like you a lot, Harry. I just don’t think that we…”

“Work the way we thought we might?” Harry suggested giving her half a smile. 

“Yes. That. That’s what is great about the two of us. We’re always on the same page. But we’re staying friends. I’m not giving you a choice on that one,” Ginny said, pointing a finger up at him. Harry laughed. 

“Of course you aren’t. Yes, still friends. Who else is close enough to matching my Quidditch prowess? Go on, go get ‘em,” he said, clapping her on the shoulder. 

“You’re the best,” she said, before skipping back off into the party. 

 

Harry was less surprised than he would have liked to see Malfoy across the room in a dark blue shirt and couldn’t help but flash back to his own impression of Malfoy.   
Malfoy looked good, Harry had to admit, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the collar open, and his hair perfectly done as usual. It was unfair really, and Harry resented him for in a little. 

The night wore on and Harry watched as people steadily gone more and more drunk, and hookups ensued. Harry was grateful that no one but him and ROn could get into their dormitory. He noticed people, distinguishing which school they came from. A buff black boy from Beauxbatons; a lean dirty-blonde boy from Durmstrang. A very slender, pale girl from Beauxbatons; a curvy, strong looking girl from Durmstrang. 

“Harry Potter,” came a yell across from him. Draco Malfoy appeared, his hair not quite as immaculate as before, his voice not quite as articulate. It wasn’t hard to sense that he wa very drunk. “You’re awful,” Malfoy said, stumbling right up to Harry and pointing a finger at him. “But I don’t think I hate you.” He paused and looked around. “It is _awful_ that I don’t hate you.” Harry couldn’t help but smile. It made him feel good to be the put together one for once. 

“Malfoy you’re drunk. Get to bed or something, I don’t know,” Harry said, shaking his head at the sorry sight. 

“No, I’m fline. Trotally fline. But I don’t _hate_ you.” Malfoy gasped then. “I don’t hate _you_ , but do you hate _me_? You do! Then why don’t I hate _you_?” He looked so utterly bewildered. Harry rolled his eyes. 

“Oh bloody hell, fine. You’re going to bed right now. Gives me an excuse to get away from this place anyhow,” he said, awfully frustrated, and he grabbed Malfoy’s arm, frogmarched him to his dormitory and flinging the door open. Fortunately, the room was empty. 

“Why should I listen to somebody who hates me?” Malfoy said, disgust piercing his slurred syllables. 

“Fuck all… Would you listen to me if I didn’t hate you?” Harry said, smacking the heel of his hand into his forehead. Draco considered this for a moment. 

“Maybe. If I can pretend you’re not awful,” he decided. 

“F- you know what? Fine. I don’t hate you. Will you just go to bed now? No, I’ not giving you a choice. Go to bed.” Draco groaned. 

“If I do it will you not be awful?” he asked. Harry glared at him, already fed up with his antics. 

“Okay! Yes. If you go to bed, I won’t be awful. Anymore. Ever again,” he said, and hoped against hope that Draco would have forgotten about that promise by the next morning. 

“Fine,” Malfoy said kicking of his shoes and falling into bed without getting changed. He was silent immediately.   
It was quiet in the dormitory- much closer to what Harry liked than out with the music and the noise and the drunk people. He sat down on the floor, leaning against Malfoy’s bed, and for the first time in almost two months, Harry slept the whole night through. 

*

Halloween fell on a Saturday, fortunately enough, allowing all the students who had been at the party to sleep in late and not be tired for the Champion selection and Halloween feast that evening. This included Harry who felt fantastic after sleeping a full eight consecutive hours. 

At six, everyone made their way to the great hall for the Halloween feast, which many people weren’t particularly hungry for, due to there being a feast the previous night. As Harry and Ron took their seats, they were discussing with Seamus and Dean in depth who the champion was to be. 

“My money is definitely on Ginny,” Harry told them. “She’d be a perfect champion.” 

“You would say that, wouldn’t you? Some of the Slytherins are rooting for Harper though,” Dean said, evaluating the odds. 

“No way,” Ron cut in. “Harper’s an idiot. And as much as I’m worried about my sister, I refuse to have her lose to bloody Harper. I know the Hufflepuff’s think Owen Cauldwell might have a chance though.” 

“I remember his sorting. He was titchy back then. He’s a hell of a lot bigger than me now. But I don’t know. Another Hufflepuff champion might be… sensitive,” Seamus said. Harry drew in his elbows and stared at his plate. 

“Where’s Hermione?” he asked Ron, just as she entered the great hall talking animatedly to Pansy Parkinson who laughed.   
Ron and Harry caught each other’s eyes.   
So, thought Harry, this wasn’t a dormitory exclusive thing. 

“That’s fantastic. Oh you’re so right,” he heard Hermione say as she drew closer. “See you later, yeah?” She waved at Pansy and went on to sit next to Ron. 

“What was that all about? Are you and Pansy mates now?” he asked her, then shook his head, looking at Harry. “Things have changed.”

“Oh be quiet, Ron. She’s quite good fun, really. Smart, too. Intuitive, even. That’s more than I could say about _some_ of us some of the time,” she said, serving herself some potatoes. Hermione looked up at Ron who was still looking at her as though she was becoming a blast-ended skrewt. “Don’t look so surprised, dear. We do have to share a room after all. What do you expect us to do? Sit in silence?”

The Halloween feast passed by slowly with the amount of anticipation in everyone’s mind. The Durmstrang students were sitting with the Gryffindors while the Beauxbatons students were at the Ravenclaw table, as they had been four years ago. At half past seven, the food disappeared off the tables and the goblet of fire was brought before the long table.   
Professor McGonagall stepped down from her seat at the teachers’ table and walked towards the Goblet. 

“The Goblet is almost ready to make its decision. I expect that it may require a minute or so more,” she began, looking at the blue flames of the Goblet. “Now, when the Champions’ names are called, I kindly ask you to come to the front of the hall, walk along the teachers’ table, through the door at the back and wait in the next chamber where you may await further instructions.” She then made a sharp sweeping motion with her arm which extinguished all the candles but the ones within the carved pumpkins. 

A few tense seconds went by before the flames of the Goblet flashed red and were engorged before sparks flew and a tongue of flame shot into the air- a slip of parchment along with it. Professor McGonagall reached out an arm and caught it.   
“The Champion of Durmstrang is… Teodora Kynev,” she announced.   
Cheers and clapping erupted, the other students of Durmstrang yelled. 

“Teo, Teo, Teo!”   
Harry’s eyes fell on Ginny who was clapping and grinning from ear to ear as the girl beside her rose and walked up to the front, gave Professor McGonagall a smile and disappeared. 

“That’s Ginny’s friend,” Harry told Ron and Hermione. 

“Well, she doesn’t look like much, but I’m sure she’ll prove us wrong,” Ron said, nodding in approval.   
The noise died down, and as it did, the goblet’s flame sparked and flashed red again and out soared another piece of parchment. 

“The Champion for Beauxbatons,” said McGonagall, “is Philippe Cheron.”   
The dark skinned boy Harry had noticed the previous evening rose, smiling, as others around him looked slightly disappointed. 

“Now he really looks like a champion,” Harry said. “Although again, we might be surprised.”   
When Philippe Cheron too had disappeared into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time the hall of the hosting school was stiff with excitement. Time for the Hogwarts Champion…  
And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more, flames leaping into the air, propelling a third piece of parchment up in Professor McGonagall’s direction which she plucked from the air. 

“The Hogwarts Champion,” she called, “will be Ginny Weasley!” All four house tables exploded with noise. Ginny had been the favourite after all. People had risen to their feet, stomping and clapping.   
Ginny looked as if she could barely contain her excitement as she sprang up from her seat, people clapping her on the back and high-fiving her all the way down the table. SHe looked positively giddy. 

It took a little longer for the noise to subside before Professor McGonagall could go on. Harry looked over at Ron, who was still smiling broadly and shaking her head. 

“I can’t believe I tried to stop her. She’ll be great. I mean I’m still worried but, damn…” he whispered. Hermione squeezed his hand, and the trio exchanged glad looks. Seamus leaned over towards Harry then. 

“The eighth years are all gathering out at the front of the school to congratulate the champions once they get out,” he said. “Pass it on to the others.” 

*

The eighth year students were all out at the front of the school and waiting for the champions to appear. Harry was surprised to see everyone there. Even Malfoy and Susan Bones, both of whom had been drunk out of their minds the night before. Particularly Malfoy. Fancy him caring about something like this. 

Neville came running down from the door into the castle then. 

“They’re coming! Hide!” he cried. Everyone dashed behind bushes, trees and pillars. The plan was to stay there until they were all about to leave, and then jump out on Neville’s cue. Not beforehand. 

The three Champions appeared then, not too visible in the light of dusk. Philippe said farewell to the girl first, and began to walk out of the castle, and as Ginny was about to walk away, right as Neville was giving his cue, Teo grabbed her by the wrist and pulled the redhead into her.   
At the exact moment the eighth years began to yell ‘Congratulations!’ Teo leant up to kiss Ginny Weasley. They broke apart grinning and bowed to the eighth year students before starting to laugh. 

Harry Potter’s fellow eighth years, however, looked around at him and he stopped clapping. 

“What?” he asked them, and then remembered. He wa the only one who knew that he and Ginny had broken up the night before. The only one with no reservations about her kissing a girl, ironic as it may have seemed.   
Teodora waved goodnight to Ginny and the two parted ways when Malfoy strutted towards Harry. 

“Well done Potter,” he drawled, an amused smirk on his face. “So atrocious in a relationship that he can’t even keep his girlfriend to sticking to his own gender.” Everyone else soon gathered around Harry. 

“Right well… we haven’t been quite right for a month now. We broke it off officially last night. I don’t have any problems with it. They looked so happy! Even if it was just a spur of the moment thing,” he explained. They began to walk on back to the common room, people still looking at him in a confused manner. 

“It’s a bit weird, I think,” Ron said. “I mean, they only met yesterday and all. Plus Ginny’s never shown any interest in girls before, has she?” 

“I love you to pieces, Ronald, but you are oblivious. Ginny does not simply support the Holyhead Harpies, she worships them because they’re gorgeous,” Hermione said, leaving Ron looking slightly puzzled and making Harry laugh. 

All the way back to the common room, Malfoy would not shut up about how Harry turned Ginny gay.   
“Just ignore him,” Hermione was saying, but Malfoy’s words prickled beneath his skin. He was offending Ginny more than Harry.   
Don’t make it about her, Harry thought. It isn’t her you don’t like. It’s me. 

“It makes sense that she’d use Potter to figure out her sexuality. I mean who could ever take _that_ seriously in _any_ kind of romantic way?”   
Harry snapped and rushed at Malfoy shoving him in the chest and pinning him to the nearest wall. 

“Harry, no!” Hermione shouted, but he remained where he was, breathing hard. 

“Well then, Potter. Going all hot and heavy from pushing me up against a wall? I say, that does explain rather a lot,” Malfoy drawled, raising an eyebrow. Harry shoved him again, but released him. 

“Oh come off it, Malfoy. Who’s the one who was talking about my love life all the way back here?” he replied and turned before Malfoy could say anything else, leaving the blonde scowling and lost for words behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to any readers out there! I hope you're enjoying the story as I know I am.
> 
> Please leave any comments or thoughts you had, if you wish to!


	5. What I Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Malfoy are in a battle to prove one another's attraction towards them, but won't this have to change when Draco needs Harry's help?

_all those times where I was good as gone_  
_you come back even though I did you wrong,_  
_you got what I need,_  
_cause you know me sometimes I like to get wild,_  
_and only you can slow me down_

Grateful as he was to be back to sleeping through the night, Harry didn’t like that what was getting him to sleep at night was either the memory of the Impressions, or that first night of rest. He also didn’t like having to get his schoolwork done in a timely fashion like everyone else, rather than relying on eight hours when everyone else was asleep. However, the pros certainly outweighed the cons in that his mood was lifted overall. 

It was breakfast and Malfoy was there but not eating. Why didn’t he eat? It was unhealthy and unnatural.  
Since the night of the Champion selections, Harry and Malfoy had been locked in a battle that Hermione had labelled as ‘ridiculously arbitrary.’ This did not, however, discourage Harry in the slightest. He was now hooked on trying to make Malfoy admit that he was attracted to Harry. 

“It’s been a fair few days, now. Harry this is ridiculous,” said Hermione, sitting down beside him. “What’s the _point_ of all this nonsense? Stop staring at him, it’s getting weird.” Harry dragged his eyes away from Malfoy to focus on his breakfast. “When are you ever going to get a grip and realise?” she said, shaking her head, and Harry saw her catch Pansy’s eye for a split-second. 

“Realise what?” he asked her. 

“That uh… that you need to accept help from Neville because you’re not doing well in Herbology and… look, the Beauxbatons champion is coming over here. How could you not notice that?” she said hastily before looking down at her Arithmancy notes which she’d set out beside her plate of toast. 

Looking up, Harry saw that the Beauxbatons champion was indeed headed in his direction. He was a lean yet muscular boy with very short hair and a very white smile.

“Hello. You’re Harry Potter, aren’t you?” he said. “Mind if I sit?” His French accent was barely heard in his voice. Harry felt slightly flustered but gestured to the space in front of him, which was clearly empty.  
“I’ve been wanting to speak to you. Hogwarts Champion at 14. And then of course there’s all of last year. I dare say you’re somewhat of an icon,” he said. His voice was very deep yet eloquent. 

“I uh… well, thanks… Philippe?” Harry said, smiling meekly. 

“Yeah that’s me. Beauxbatons Champion. Very excited of course. Nervous for the first task, though!” 

“No, I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Harry reassured him. “Just got to have a few tricks up your sleeve, just in case. You seem pretty competent, I’m sure.” Wow, he felt stupid. Here was this intelligent, handsome guy- wait, handsome? Did he think that? 

“Well, I do my best,” Philippe said, and Harry laughed. 

“Sorry, I hope you don’t mind my asking,” said Harry, “but how is your English so good?”Philippe cocked his head and gave a lopsided smile. 

“My parents are muggles. Mum’s from London, Dad’s from Mauritania. They met in France and lived there ever since,” he explained. “Look, I was wondering if you would be able to show me around sometime. Help me navigate the library and all that fun jazz?” 

“I-” Harry began but was cut off by Hermione. 

“Oh I would love to, Philippe. I do know the library better than Harry. I practically live there if I’m honest,” she said very fast and gave a somewhat false laugh at the end. “How’s four thirty for a time?” Philippe clasped his hands together and grinned at Hermione. 

“Thank you. It’s lovely to meet you, Hermione Granger. Lovely indeed. Sounds perfect. I’ll see you then, yeah?” he said as he got up, then he turned from the table and returned to his schoolmates.  
Harry turned sharply towards Hermione. 

“What did you do that for, ´Mione? I could have done it!” he said indignantly. 

“I was just helping out. No need for you to help with something you don’t know all that much about. Haven’t even read ‘Hogwarts: A History’ after seven years of me telling you to.” 

“Yeah but,” Harry said, exasperated, gesturing at the Ravenclaw table. “Did you _see_ him? He was…” He broke off, realizing where his words were taking him. Still perfectly calm, Hermione looked up from her notes. 

“I’m sorry, Harry, is there something that you’re trying to tell me?” Her face was blank. She was an awful actress, he had to admit, but she was incredibly observant.  
Harry grumbled something under his breath.  
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Harry mumbled the something a little louder.  
“One more time please? I didn’t quite catch that,” she said, not looking at Harry. 

“Ugh, fine, he was hot!” Harry yelled. A few heads on the eighth year table jerked up at him, including Malfoy’s sneering, pompous face. Hermione appeared unfazed, but the corner of her mouth twitched. 

“Yes, well. We can’t have everything, can we? Besides, I’m sure we can find you someone better,” she said. “Defense Against the Dark Arts starts in ten minutes. Shall we go?” A disgruntled Harry followed Hermione. 

Stupid boys and their stupid attractive faces and bodies and now Malfoy knew he fancied boys too. He’d never let Harry live it down. He could _win_ , and that was something Harry was far from okay with. 

*

Nights in the common room were peaceful enough, although these days, they did include Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy staring at one another while the other wasn’t watching, and trying to find the best way to taunt them. 

Padma and Pansy burst through the door to the common room with a large, open wooden box floating before them. Pansy cleared her throat. 

“Everyone? We have brought you ice cream sundaes. You’re welcome,” she announced before levitating the box to the front of the room and setting it down on the coffee table. 

“What is it with girls? How are they all so buddy-buddy by now? Can’t say that’s happened to us,” Ron murmured to Harry. 

“And I hope that it won’t” Harry said, but he sat up straighter in his armchair to reach forward and grab two glass dishes heaped with ice cream for himself and Ron before looking up and realising that on this particular evening, Malfoy was now only just coming into the common room. He gave an exaggerated sigh as he walked up to Harry. 

“Potter, if you wanted me to sit on your lap, there would have been a multitude of other ways in which to go about it, none of which include taking my armchair,” he said, loosening his tie from around his neck. Harry scoffed. 

“Oh please, Malfoy. There’s a multitude of reasons I’m in this chair, none of which have anything to do with you,” he said, and made direct eye contact with the boy. “Why? Fancy sitting in my lap, do you?” 

“Merlin forbid, sounds repellent to me. You’re the one who shouts about hot boys at breakfast,” Malfoy said and smirked before picking up an ice cream dish and taking the seat on the other side of the fireplace next to Blaise. 

At this point, Ron was too involved with eating his ice cream to notice any interactions going on around him, so Harry had received no back up at all.  
Harry watched scornfully as Malfoy spooned some ice cream and licked it bit by bit off the spoon. He gulped and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Why did Malfoy have to eat ice cream like that? It was… impractical, he decided. 

“Are you quite alright there, Potter? It’s just that you look awfully agitated,” Malfoy said, grinning wickedly. 

“Get over yourself,” Harry said, finding nothing better in his mind at that moment, and he, like Ron, tried to focus on his ice cream instead.

*

Professor Grove was a good teacher in Harry’s eyes, even if she wasn’t quite Lupin. She was well put together yet far from severe. She made you want to do well in her class, and Defense Against the Dark Arts was a very entertaining class, because it was simply all the ex-Gryffindors who were all quite familiar with one another. It was a fabulous time. Fabulously easy for all of the students as well, which meant classes got to be a lot more fun. 

“Are you telling me that _all_ of you can conjure a… a patronus?” she said in disbelief that class. “A fully fledged patronus?” 

“Well, not every time,” said Lavender Brown. “But sometimes, yes.” The rest of the students nodded. 

“Why, I never. Who taught you this?” 

“Remus Lupin,” said Harry at the same moment that everyone else in the room said: “Harry.” 

“I must say, this is exciting. Mister Potter, you never fail to impress me. Why am I still surprised? Come all of you then, let’s have ourselves a little exhibition, shall we? Mister Longbottom, shall we start with you?” 

The room was filled with joy that class as silver animals flew through the room. Neville’s lion, first, padding around the room after a few tries.  
Parvati’s dolphin. Lavender’s Zebra. Seamus’ fox. Dean’s falcon. Ron’s terrier. Hermione’s otter.  
Harry stepped forward and allowed a silver stag to burst from the end of his wand with ease. It was at that moment that Malfoy walked by, did a double take, blinked a few times, and walked on. Harry’s stag pranced around the room before he extinguished it. 

“Well done everyone. Oh, I am so glad I have such a talented group of students working with me! I won’t lie, I was apprehensive about taking the job, but I’m so glad I did,” Professor Grove told them, spreading a warm smile around the group. 

“Apprehensive? What is this? Only the eighth defence against the dark arts teacher in eight years? I can’t imagine why you’d say such a thing,” Seamus said shaking his head, and they all laughed. 

“Oh, Mister Finnigan, you’re quite the clown. Now everyone, make sure you noted down the homework- read pages 116 to 134 on the Recent History of the Dark Forces by Friday. And other than that, enjoy your day!” Professor Grove dismissed them into the open air right before Harry’s free block. 

“Harry,” Hermione called, leading him back to the present moment. “You need to change the password again for the common room. I left the list of the next passwords in your room. Just send the word up to McGonagall once it’s changed. And don’t try and get out of it, I know you don’t have a class next period.” 

Harry sighed and made a mental note as he walked lazily to the common room. 

*

It didn’t take long to find the slip of parchment left behind on Harry’s pillow. Judging from the list, the next password was to be ‘Run of Dreams,’ after the popular wizarding tourist location in eastern Asia. It was a curious thing for a password, but Harry hadn’t chosen it.  
He wished it was the Fat Lady on their common room door, and not a bunch of snakes. He thought back, as he made his way to the door, to that time she’d disappeared back in third year because of Sirius and grinned to himself. Sirius and the Fat Lady- the two biggest drama queens ever to have graced the school. Apart from, of course, Malfoy, but that was a whole new level. 

Standing in front of the open common room door, Harry took a deep breath, concentrating hard on the lifelike snakes. 

“Change command,” he hissed, having the sounds come out very differently. “Change command,” he repeated, and did not notice the footsteps issuing from inside the common room. 

“Oh baby, talk dirty to me,” came Malfoy’s voice, exaggerating a fake moan. The boy appeared in the doorway, leaning lazily against it, and Harry raised an eyebrow at him. “You know, if you did more of that and threw fewer ridiculous insults, you might actually have a chance with some people.” Harry cocked his head and grinned. 

“You like that, do you?” he said, still hissing in Parseltongue. He saw Malfoy gulp and straighten himself, no longer leaning against the round door frame. 

“Shut up, Potter. I actually… came here to talk to you,” he said resigning himself to honesty. 

“Well, that’s a shocker, I must say. Finally time to express your lust?” Harry asked. 

“Don’t flatter yourself. No I was… I saw your patronus.” This silenced Harry. Perhaps this was something important to Draco. “You made it look- I mean, you weren’t awful at it. But I was thinking… could you maybe…” Harry grinned. 

“You want me to teach you? Be your tutor? Your superior?” he said. Malfoy didn't meet his eyes. 

“Fuck off, Potter, you’ll never be my superior. But yeah. Some- something like that. Besides,” Malfoy said, grinning mischievously at Harry, “you said you wouldn’t be awful. And you haven’t kept that promise so far.” Harry was taken aback. Shocked. 

“No way, I thought you wouldn’t remember that!” he said, covering his face with his hand. 

“Yes, well, slightly embarrassing as that night was for me, I do not forget these things. You’re lucky I haven’t held you to your promises too strictly,” Malfoy replied. “Who knows what might have happened otherwise? What would I have to do if you were actually _pleasant_ to be around?” They both shuddered at the thought and stifled laughs. 

Harry thought back to that night- his first good night’s sleep that school year. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but when he’d awoken, Malfoy had still been passed out in bed, and he, Harry, had been positively mortified. It was fortunate that Blaise wasn’t in the room. He was probably splayed across some girl in one of the labyrinthine corridors in the Chamber, Harry supposed. He’d stayed squinting at Malfoy for a few minutes- just to make sure that he was asleep, of course. Then, staying quiet as possible, he’d tiptoed out of the room, taking his time to shut the door, peering through the gap until it was shut. He’d been so lucky with the situation, yet had felt… dissatisfied with it somehow. Harry shook himself back into the present moment. 

“Okay, then. What’s in this for me?” Harry asked, making Malfoy scoff. 

“The grace of my lovely presence, of course! As it’s something you actively look out for, as much as you try to hide it,” he drawled.

“Well if that’s it, then I’m not exactly sure if I want to take you up on the offer,” Harry said, frowning. 

“I’m sure we can arrange something,” Malfoy replied, slowly looking Harry up and down. It made his skin prickle under those grey-blue eyes. 

“Are you flirting with me?” he asked, obstinately folding his arms across his chest. 

“Well, if that’ll make you help me, then yes. Why, do you want me to?” Malfoy was grinning. 

“You wish. Fine, I’ll help you. But not because you… well…” Harry drifted off. “Just tell me when and where, and it’s a go.” Malfoy nodded as if in approval. 

“A week from now. At four. The room of requirement. Meet outside. And do be punctual,” he said before making his way out of the doorway towards the stairs. 

“Will do,” Harry hissed in Parseltongue and watching Malfoy stiffen a little. He grinned, taking pleasure in Malfoy’s weakness and chuckled to himself before turning back to the door to change the password. 

*

“It’s hard to believe that we haven’t been to see him yet all together. I feel awful,” Hermione said. Harry nudged her as they walked down across the grounds. 

“It’s not like we haven’t been,” he said. 

“Yes, but it just isn’t the same when it’s not all four of us together,” she insisted, putting the arm that wasn’t around Ron’s waist around Harry’s. 

Hagrid was out by Beauxbatons’ winged horses, feeding them, and patting one of the largest on its golden neck. He turned to the three approaching him. 

“Harry! Ron! Hermione! How’s it goin’?” he asked, grinning from ear to ear, his beetle black eyes shining with warmth. “All of you together. It’s been too long!” He walked over to the fence to be nearer to them. 

“Hi, Hagrid. Having fun with the horses?” Ron asked. 

“Oh they’re fantastic. Among the more aggressive breeds of winged horses, you know, these are,” Hagrid told them, gesturing at the palominos as he looked down at them. “I’ve just finished up here. Let’s go on down to the hut. It’s a bit chilly out here.”  
“You must be proud of yer sister, Ron. All o’ ye must be proud of ‘er. She’ll be a great champion!” 

“Yeah… I hope she’ll be alright,” Ron said, then looked up at Hagrid. “Wait, you’d know. You know what the tasks are!” Hagrid shook his head. 

“Oh Hagrid, please! We all really want to know and we promise not to tell anyone,” Hermione said. 

“No way, Hermione. I’d just spoil it for all of you! But I do know one thing, and that’s that Ginny can handle it. She’s a smart little thing, ain't she? How are you and her going, by the way, Harry?” he asked, nudging Harry in what he probably thought was a playful fashion, but causing Harry to almost fall over. 

“Oh, right No, we broke it off actually. We’re still good friends though,” Harry told him. 

“I’m sorry. That’s too bad!” Hagrid said. 

“Nah, it’s alright. Her and the Durmstrang champion are getting friendly though. The only real downside is the Malfoy won’t shut up about it. He’s bloody awful,” Harry said. 

“Just ignore him if it bothers ye so much. How’s it goin’ with the eighth year thing? Sharin’ a common room and all? Made any unexpected friends?” Hagrid asked. Hermione nodded. 

“I’m sharing a dormitory with Pansy Parkinson, and she’s alright to talk to actually,” she said. Ron and Harry both shook their heads at Hagrid. 

“You know, I still don’t get it,” Ron said. 

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, “what do you two even talk _about_?” he asked. 

“Well, now that you mention it, you come up quite a lot, Harry. You and Malfoy both, come to think of it,” she said. 

“ _Malfoy?_ ” Ron and Harry said together. 

“Yes. Turns out that he talks about Harry rather a lot. _Almost_ as much as Harry talks about him,” she said, exchanging a grin with Hagrid. 

“Okay, I do _not_ talk about Malfoy that much,” Harry said, and suddenly three voices stopped him. 

“Yeah, hate to break it to you, mate, but you really do,” Ron told him. 

“What? Hagrid, back me up, here!” Hagrid shook his head.

“No can do. Your friends are right about this one I’m afraid,” he said, chuckling. Harry seethed.  
This was Malfoy’s fault. If he just wasn’t always drawing attention to himself… 

*

At ten to four on Friday, Harry was on the seventh floor of the castle by the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy waiting for Malfoy. He hadn’t wanted to be late. Not that it should have mattered. Not wanting to wait awkwardly in the hallway, he decided to find the perfect room for the Room of Requirement to become for the sake of Patronus training. 

Walking back and forth in front of the blank wall, Harry repeated the thought in his mind: ‘I need a place for Malfoy to learn the Patronus charm’ over and over again. Nothing happened. Harry tried again, thinking the same words: ‘I need a place for Malfoy to learn the Patronus charm.’ Still no door appeared.  
Confused, Harry tried a different tactic: ‘I need a positive place to practice casting spells,’ he thought instead, walking back and forth before the wall.  
After walking back and forth three times, a dark wooden door appeared, to his relief at the same time as Malfoy rounded the end of the corridor. 

“I wish I could say I’m not surprised to see you,” he said, blank faced. “Let’s see what this place is giving us, shall we?” Harry pushed the door open and the two boys stepped into the room.  
It was very light inside- white pillars lined the walls and sunlight was seeping in from the glass ceiling. There were plushy sofas at the side of the room in a rich green colour. 

“Not bad,” Harry said, nodding and stepping further into the room, shutting the door behind him. “Okay, have you tried to do this before?” He turned to Draco, pulling out his wand. 

“What, are we getting right into this?” Draco seemed nervous, avoiding eye contact. “Um alright then, yes. I have.” 

“Right. And nothing happened?” Malfoy nodded. “Well first of all, a Patronus takes confidence, so take that pride or whatever it is holding you back and just throw it out the window.” Malfoy gave Harry an unimpressed glare. 

“You’re one to talk. You love talking down to me,” he said. Harry shook his head. 

“That’s not what this is about. This is about conjuring a Patronus, which I happen to know something about, believe it or not. And confidence is key,” Harry said. 

“You sound like McGonagall,” Draco spat. 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. Okay, good. Keep that. You want to do better than me. Keep that in your mind,” Harry instructed. “Now, think of something happy. The happiest memory you’ve got. Something that fills you with complete and utter joy.” 

“Oh you can’t be serious,” said Malfoy. 

“I assure you I am,” Harry replied. “Now do it! Think of one.” Draco looked agitated. “Come on, just give it a go!” 

“I can’t!” Malfoy burst out. “Okay? I can’t.” He walked to the side of the room and collapsed onto a sofa. Harry dropped his arms to his sides, following Malfoy with his eyes. 

“What do you mean you can’t?” he asked. “Wait, no, never mind.” He walked to the sofa and sat at the opposite end to Malfoy. “First of all, tell me: why do you want to be able to conjure a Patronus?” Malfoy scowled at him. 

“Oh no. We’re not doing this. I’ve said it before: we don’t do feelings. We hate… we don’t like each other,” he said in disgust. 

“This isn’t about _our_ feelings about one another. Again, it’s about conjuring a patronus. And no one manages first time around.” Harry was irritated. What did Malfoy expect? To be able to produce a patronus without even trying first? 

“Every good memory I can think of links to something negative, and although there are no dementors in Azkaban anymore, I’d feel better visiting my father if I could cast a patronus,” Malfoy blurted before standing up abruptly. “There, are you happy?” Before Harry could think of anything to say in response, Malfoy’s back disappeared and the door slammed shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops confession hour with Malfoy! So that happened. 
> 
> They're not very good communicators, are they? They're both a bit hopeless...
> 
> As always, please leave any, questions, comments thought, or feelings in the comments!


	6. Once Upon A Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The First Task

_I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream_   
_I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam_   
_And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem_   
_But if I know you, I know what you'll do_

“Malfoy,” Harry said, trying to step in front of him. Trying to get his attention. Trying to talk to him. But it was to no avail. Malfoy refused to stop and talk to him, because he knew what Harry wanted, and Harry knew that it was difficult for Malfoy to ‘do feelings,’ to put it in his words, but he also realised that it was something that would benefit Malfoy immensely. 

“Give it up, mate. Don’t know why you’re so bothered. Is he really worth the effort?” Ron said. 

“It’s not about that really. I don’t know.” Harry considered telling Ron about what Malfoy had said in the room of requirement a few days beforehand, but decided against it. That had, although not explicitly said, been told to him in confidence. “I guess not.” 

“Look on the bright side- he’s still insulting you, and the two of you can go on happily insulting each other all the way to the grave,” Ron said causing Harry to snort. “We’d better get going to the First Task if we want to wish Ginny good luck _and_ get good seats.” Harry nodded vigorously. 

“I wonder what it’ll be. Where’s Hermione? She was with us at breakfast,” he questioned. 

“With Pansy, probably. Who’d have thunk it? I mean I’m _fine_ with it, but it’s _suspicious_ , you know?”   
Speak of the devil, Harry thought as Hermione and Pansy turned the corner, speaking in low voices to one another before saying their goodbyes. 

“You’re still here?” Hermione said once she’d located her friends. “Come on, or we won’t be able to see the champions before the Task!”   
They walked briskly down the grass, cloaks pulled tight around them to keep out the cold air and stepping onto the first of the many barges which were moving swiftly over the surface of the lake by magic into a far cove which none of the current Hogwarts students had seen before.  
The barge stopped at the edge of the cove and had a steep staircase leading to the stands on the cliff above. Harry, Ron and Hermione rushed around the top of the cliff to reach the Champion’s tent. 

The three Triwizard Champions were outside the cave, not yet receiving their instructions. Philippe’s brow was furrowed as he paced, reminding Harry with a pang, of Cedric before their first task. Ginny and Teo were both sitting silently across from one another, hands clasped. 

“Hi there, Harry Potter,” Philippe said, grinning lopsidedly as he looked up and stopped pacing. “Hermione Granger. Ron Weasley.” Ron looked very pleased to hear his name without first telling Philippe what it was. 

“Hello Philippe,” Hermione said brightly. “Good luck in the first task! I really hope you do well.” 

“Ah, thank you. You honour me,” Philippe said, placing a hand on his chest. 

“Yeah, uh, good luck. Don’t let the nerves get to you,” Harry said. 

“Oh I’ll try not to,” Philippe rumbled in his friendly, low voice and he winked at Harry who smiled hastily back and gulped. 

The three friends stepped around Philippe who continued his pacing before sitting down in front of Teo and Ginny to form a circle. The two girls looked up. 

“Hello. You are all friends of Ginny’s, yes? You are her brother of course though,” Teo said, forcing a grin. 

“Hi Ron. Harry. Hermione,” Ginny said, smiling. “Oh, I’m so nervous. Thanks for coming to see me, though. I don’t know how well I’m going to do. We haven’t found out what it is we’re doing yet. And the first Champion goes on in half an hour. But I think I have a shot at doing okay. I mean, I usually do alright under pressure.” She was rambling making the trio exchanges smiles. 

“My friends, you should all be so proud of Ginevra. She has not once completely lost her cool in practicing for this unknown task,” Teo told them, grinning enthusiastically and squeezing Ginny’s hand. “She is truly an amazing work of nature.” Harry smiled at this display of affection but Ginny went pink and rolled her eyes. 

“Okay, no. I thought I knew enough but along come these two,” she said, pointing at the other champions, “and suddenly I feel way sub par.” 

“I refuse to believe that,” Ron declared, folding his arms. 

“This is because it is not true,” Teo explained. “I believe in our skills, we may be evenly matched, but Ginevra has spirit some do not possess.” 

The new Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, a witch once part of the Irish national Quidditch team, came out of the tent, then. 

“Champions, in here please,” and noticing Hermione, Ron and Harry, “what are you three doing here? Get to the stands! I doubt you’ll want to miss this! The witch winked at them and, giving a final good luck to the champions, they left to find a seat in the stands which overlooked the cove. The cove was mostly marsh and rocks with deeper pools dotted around the place. It was currently deserted and a slightly shimmering dome lay above it. 

“It’s a sound barrier,” Hermione explained. “You can tell from the vibrations. I suppose the sound could be dangerous to the crowds?” 

“That doesn’t really help me figure out what it is.” Ron said. 

“In that case, you clearly never did any extra work for Care of Magical Creatures or Defence Against the Dark Arts,” she said. Ron shrugged and shook his head. Hermione laughed softly in exasperation. “You neither, Harry? I suppose it isn’t completely common information. Well then. Look at this place. It’s a fairly enclosed yet large cove or inlet that appears to be somewhat solid. However, I’m sure if we physically explored this place, you would sink straight in where the water is very deep. There are jagged rocks, it’s a good place for a shipwreck. It’s also a good place for animals to rest. In short, it’s the perfect habitat for sirens.” 

“Oh, like mermaids? Not the lake kind. The other kind,” Ron declared. 

“Sort of,” continued Hermione. “Sirens can appear as merpeople with tails and all, or they can choose to appear as very attractive humans. If you come in direct hearing contact with their song, it’s said to be irresistible. They can be bribed if there is an aspect of competition. Like the Tournament I suppose. They believe they are above humans, unless the human succeeds in eluding them, in which case, they are said to be the most loyal of friends. It’s very rare that a human has heard their call and made it out alive.” 

“What about my sister?” Ron cried. 

“Ron, relax. They’ll have all sorts of safety measures. You should be the Champion, Hermione. You would have aced this task,” Harry said, hiding his own nerves. 

“Perhaps. But I don’t think I have the guts. Not in front of everyone. I wonder how this is going to work as far as safety goes. I’ll have to ask around afterwards.” 

“You’re not helping the protective-brother-Ron case, Hermione,” Harry hissed in her ear. 

*

It was a good fifteen minutes before Esmeralda Moran, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports and official commentator for the Triwizard Tournament, began speaking, her voice booming, welcoming everyone to the stadium. It was such a relief and such fun to Harry to be sitting in the stands, having every ounce of attention on other people for once.

“The first task that our Champions will be put through is to test their ability to think under pressure. This very inlet contains Sirens,” Moran announced before explaining the nature of sirens to the crowd who grew more anxious with every passing word. 

“The Champions’ task is to locate their clue within the inlet. The clues are strips of cloth, each a bright colour for each Champion, and each will be concealed while the sirens are calling to the Champions. Points will be given out of ten depending on the time taken, any injuries, and distraction due to the sirens. Summoning charms will not work on these clues, nor will simple silencing charms work on the sirens. This is about strength of will and character. It is up the the Champions to try to outsmart the Sirens. To call it a challenging task would be an understatement!”   
And now, please give it up for our first contestant, Beauxbatons champion: Philippe Cheron!”

The crowds in the stands cheered loudly, and as if on cue, heads and bodies started to appear smoothly out of the water. Above the cove, projections of the marshy environment were put up to give people a closer view, and the sound from inside the dome was being played through speakers. Second hand sound would be no issue to the crowd. 

The projections zoomed in on the sirens who were too far down for the onlookers to get a feeling for how perfect they really looked. These were female sirens and they looked to be truly flawless. Their skin, although it varied in colour from siren to siren, was smooth and clear, almost like the inside of a seashell. They were in human form and were not clothed and they moved through the marsh as if they were a part of the water itself, long locks not a hair out of place, flowing over their bodies. 

“Not sure if this is a popular opinion,” Ron said, “but these things… I think they're more gorgeous than veela. I'd never have thought-”  
Harry half expected Hermione to scold Ron but she too was transfixed- more by interest than the beauty of the sirens, though. 

Then, a crack appeared in the rock of the cliff, moving aside to reveal Philippe’s dark figure striding confidently out and onto a rock in the marsh before the gaze of the sirens latched onto him and they began to sing. 

The speakers around the stadium, however, made no noise. The song of the sirens was not picked up by recording magic. For such powerfully magical creatures, they truly did repel many forms of magic. 

“Oh no,” Hermione said in a disappointed voice. “I wanted to hear them second hand at least!” 

“You might want to rethink what it is you want. I wouldn't be in his shoes right now,” Ron said, not taking his eyes off the projection before them.   
It must have been humiliating, thought Harry, standing there and being watched as beautiful people tried to lure you away. How strong was lust for each Champion? How quickly would they act?   
Philippe remained very cool, yet was unable to take his eyes off the sirens, jaw clenched. He shut his eyes tightly and put his wand to the side of his head. When Philippe’s eyes opened, the projection zoomed in to show only them- many bright colours flickering over the whole eye- pupil, iris and white no longer distinguishable, replaced by clouds of vivid blue, red, green and yellow. It reminded Harry vaguely of a Muggle thermal camera. 

Philippe looked around at the sirens who were beckoning to him, his expression betraying his longing. A few of the sirens climbed on rocks on the sides of the cliff which were impossible to get to without Philippe going through deep water, both literal and metaphorical.   
The sirens were reaching out with their arms towards him, mouths open in a chorus of sound unheard by the crowd.   
Esmeralda Moran’s voice was booming out over the crowd.   
“Philippe Cheron has performed a revealing spell on his own eyes! Very impressive. But it can only get him so far! The worst is yet to come, I'm certain.”   
Philippe’s eyes travelled from siren to siren, stumbling towards one or another from time to time. It wasn't an active task to watch, yet it was extremely tense. Then his eyes locked on one.   
“It’s looking like Cheron has spotted something! Could it be what he needs?” Moran announced. The siren he was presumably looking at (only presumably because no one could tell in which direction his eyes were moving anymore) had golden brown skin and straight black hair that reached her hips. She was sat upon a rock near the entrance to the cove, one hand reaching in Philippe’s direction, the other in her sleek hair. 

It was then that the Beauxbatons champion seemed to lose the control that he'd had only a few moments before.  
“Uh oh! It looks like a reckless move from Cheron! We can only hope he knows what he's doing! If not, well, we'll soon find out.”   
Philippe was heading straight towards the siren woman, unblinking and swaying slightly. He did not move around to make the route easier, but stepped straight into the deep bog. As he walked, the other sirens gathered around his legs, grasping at him, but he did not stop and his pace did not change. Even when a siren with both dark and light patterns adorning her skin was the first to grow vicious, opening her mouth revealing huge canines which had certainly not been there earlier, and sinking them into Philippe’s leg, leaving a deep gash as he continued to move. 

Other sirens scratched at Philippe’s legs and hips yet he could not be distracted. This alone gave hope that he had a plan in store. Walking, wading, and swimming, he made it over to the siren with the golden brown skin, taking a worrying while about it, or so it seemed to the students in the stands. He reached out towards her and she gave a laugh that could not be heard, yet if it could, Harry was certain it would sound like a tinkling bell.   
The siren woman suddenly burst claws from where her fingernails had been and as she leapt down at Philippe, he jumped up to greet her, grabbing her by the hair and when he removed his hand from under her river of black silken hair, he had a piece of blue cloth clasped in his fist. 

Snapping to attention at the sight of this, the sirens slipped back into the water and disappeared without a sound or a splash, while the crowd burst into roars, cheering for Philippe and his success as he grinned up at them as though all was right with the world.   
Once he had cleared out of the inlet and a few minutes had passed, allowing the cheering to subside a little, Moran’s voiced called out once more:  
“And now, for our next contestant, it's the Hogwarts champion, Ginny Weasley!” 

“I thought they give out the scores for each contestant first,” Harry yelled at his friends over the crowd. 

“I suppose they changed it. Maybe they'll get their scores at the end,” Hermione yelled back before both turned back to the stadium to cheer for Ginny at the top of their lungs, but first, the sirens made their appearance.   
They were not solely female sirens this time. Male faces and bodies drifted in the swamp as well. The men varied in looks quite a lot: from clean-shaven and light haired to siren men with long dark hair sorting beards, and again, every skin colour under the sun. Women too were there lying across rocks, and perching themselves elegantly around the cove. Harry recognised a few of them from Philippe’s round. 

When the slab of rock cracked open from the cliff to reveal the bright red ponytail and slender body that were Ginny’s, no one was cheering louder than Ron.   
Ginny took an approach which was a polar opposite to Philippe’s, and didn't wait a second once she was visible to act. Ginny jabbed towards the water with her wand, and it began to boil, delaying the sirens’ singing by a good few seconds. A series of quickfire spells ensued until for one, it could be spotted that Ginny directed the wand at herself. After that, her movements grew jerky and odd, and while her wand continued to shoot sparks, they seemed to have little to no effect on the sirens who continued to sing to her.   
Ginny continued to fight as minutes passed, she walked towards deeper water, sinking in where the sirens were calling to her. 

“Come on, Ginny!” Ron yelled, and then added more quietly: “Don't give in. Not now.” Harry, noticing this, began to cheer too. 

“Go, Ginny! You've got this!” As he yelled, Ginny’s hair seemed to fade in colour and her body looked as if it was being wiped away before she disappeared entirely, reappearing on the side of the cliff. 

“Well I never!” came Esmeralda Moran’s voice over the crowd. “And essence trap charm performed on one’s self! Now _that_ is talent, people! A very complicated piece of magic! Let's hope she keeps it together and succeeds!”   
Ginny was climbing along the cliff towards the mouth of the cove, eyes narrowed in concentration and pain. A male siren with light hair and eyes sat right below her, looking up and singing from his very soul, it seemed. Even Harry admitted silently to himself that he wished he could hear those voices. Reaching down right above the siren’s head, Ginny plunged her hand into a small crevice in the rock face. The siren grabbed her arm with one hand and reached towards her chest with the other, but Ginny jumped down from where she was clinging onto the cliff face and onto the rock where the siren sat, allowing him to pull her arm out of the crack in the rock. 

Then, before the siren could grab any other part of her, Ginny forced her other hand into the crevice and pulled out a yellow piece of cloth. At the site of it, the siren released her and him and the others all sank back into the depths of the cove. Harry smiled as he screamed for Ginny at the top of his lungs, for with those instincts it was clear that she was first and foremost a Quidditch player.   
“Will you look at that! Our second champion retrieves her clue without _any_ kind of injury! Perhaps she took a little longer, but that was an impressive piece of magic to give off!” Moran bellowed, but no one was listening, because the crowd had erupted into cheers so loud that the soundproof dome rippled with agitation.   
Ginny raised her hand holding the yellow cloth to the sky, looking up at the crowd who were looking only at her. 

“At least I have nothing to worry about anymore. Time to relax. I mean the Durmstrang girl can't do better that that, surely,” Ron said, stretching back in his seat. 

“That was really impressive. Like… wow. I had no idea Ginny could... But don't underestimate Teo,” Harry responded. 

“That's a very advanced piece of magic! Not many people are capable of that. Mind you, the seeking eye spell will burn your eyes out if you perform it on yourself and anything at all goes wrong. But Ginny’s was absolutely incredible,” Hermione put in. “I wonder what Teodora will do.” 

Once Ginny was out of the stadium, Moran announced that Teodora old be entering the stadium while male sirens appeared in the pools, spreading themselves around the cove.   
However, when Teodora appeared in the cliff, she laughed. When the male sirens in the cove began to sing, she simply shook her head.   
Harry, Ron and Hermione looked skeptically at each other. 

“Why isn't it affecting her?” Harry whispered to Hermione. 

“I… I don't know. There's never been mention of someone's sexuality impacting a siren’s effect on them but maybe…” she broke off as Teodora’s mouth opened wide and she began to sing a song which was very audible to the crowd. 

Harry sighed as he listened. Teo had a beautiful voice which was enchanting the crowd, but looking at the sirens, it was obvious that they did not feel quite the same about it. The hands of many of the siren men were clamped over their ears, and several were writhing. None appeared to be singing.  
Teo continued to sing as she walked around the cove with a small smile playing on her lips. She held her wand out in front of her, guiding her, hopping between rocks. Sirens began to find the sound unbearable and one by one, they slid beneath the water. It was only another minute before she lifted a red cloth up from where a siren had been sitting beforehand.   
Even Moran was lost for words for a moment. 

*

Leaving the stands, Harry was shaking his head in wonder. 

“Teo used the simplest magic ever. Just a directed guiding spell. But I wonder how she knew. I've never read that anywhere,” Hermione said. “I’m glad Ginny is in second though. Even if her piece of magic was the most impressive.” 

“Yeah she's alright,” Harry said with a grin. 

“Alright? Ginny is spectacular!” Ron exclaimed. “Mind you, I wouldn't mind talking to Teodora. Finding out how she knew.” 

“I had no idea the Task would be so challenging. I was seriously surprised they all handled it so well. They're pretty close in scores at the moment, too,” Harry brought up. “They're better than my set of champions, if I can say that.” 

“Oh I wouldn't necessarily go _that_ far, but they're certainly better than you were,” came a scathing voice, nearing them. Harry groaned. “Well I'm not lying,” Malfoy said, coming into stride with the rest of them. “You were fourteen after all.” Harry turned to him. 

“Malfoy, can we-” 

“No, I'd rather not spend my time talking to you. But nice to see you're so eager, Potter,” he said before walking away. Ugh. Harry was nettled by Malfoy’s mock suggestive tone. 

“You bloody… siren!” Harry yelled, and then more quietly, “You even look like one.” Neither Ron, Hermione nor Malfoy missed what he said, all stopping in their tracks. 

“You do realise what saying that about me would mean, Potter,” Malfoy said raising an eyebrow. Harry didn't respond. “A siren, hmm? One who kills humans through their deep lust and attraction towards it? And I even look like one… I see. You didn't have to call me your siren. You could have just _said_ that you want me. Nice for me to know,” he taunted, eyes flashing before leaving the trio in silence. Harry was the first to break it. 

“You two know I don't… I'm not… I'm not attracted to… to _Malfoy_ ,” he told them, trying to fake disgust to put into his voice. “I'm not even into guys!” 

“Whatever you say Harry,” Hermione said before she continued walking, blank faced. He and Ron walked after her. 

“Mate you've been into blokes since forever. Even if I personally didn't notice, Hermione tells me things. And after hearing that, that first bit is hard to believe. But if you're saying you're not into him, not gonna lie, I'm pretty relieved,” Ron said, his face breaking into a grin. “Imagine- sworn enemies. One a victim of unrequited love for the evil shit head.” Harry couldn't help but laugh with him. It truly would be too ridiculous to believe. 

 

On the way up the castle grounds, heading inside, Harry was stopped again.   
“Potter,” came a sharp voice. He and his companions turned to see Professor Mcgonagall striding towards him, emerald green robes flowing. 

“Yes, professor?” Harry adored Professor McGonagall, yet that didn't make him less nervous, as she was still strict as ever, and had an uncanny way of making Harry feel as though he had done something wrong. 

“Don't look so worried. You aren't in any trouble, for once,” she joked, a smile cracking her stern demeanour. “I want to see you in my office later today. And yes it has to be today. I'll see you at four. Oh and it's the first password you ever heard,” she told him with a small nod before walking briskly off. 

“Wonder what that's about,” Ron said. “Anything you can think of?” Harry shook his head. 

“Haven't the foggiest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a really fun chapter. I love chances for character development! And that last Drarry moment got me dead
> 
> Please leave any and all thoughts and feelings in the comments!


	7. Something There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the first task over, that and the still officially unannounced Yule Ball are what is sparking conversation amongst friends!

_He glanced this way, I thought I saw_  
_And when we touched he didn't shudder at my paw_  
_No it can't be, I'll just ignore_  
_But then he's never looked at me that way before ___

__Standing in front of the giant stone gargoyle leading up to Professor McGonagall’s office, Harry thought back to what she'd said: ‘the first password.’ McGonagall had been the first person to take Harry to this office, back in his second year when it still belonged to Professor Dumbledore. He hadn't forgotten the password then, and assumed that this was what McGonagall had meant by the ‘first one.’_ _

__“Sherbet… lemon?” he said skeptically at the gargoyle. The stone creature shuddered and sprang to life before jumping aside and letting Harry pass it to get to the door to the office.  
Apprehensive, Harry knocked three times on the heavy wood. _ _

__“Enter,” came the headmistress’ voice from behind the door. Harry pushed the door open and stepped inside. The office was not how it had been in Dumbledore’s possession, nor how it had been in Snape’s, although it was nearly as spartan.  
The curtains had been changed to be royal purple velvet and there were a few magical contraptions around, in spinning silver, yet they were rather few. It was not a warm room, yet it was highly functional.  
The portrait of Dumbledore still hung above the desk, and on the wall where there had previously been a blank space, a new portrait had been hung containing the face of none other than Professor Severus Snape. 

__“Ah, Harry,” Professor McGonagall said, standing and smiling. “Good of you to turn up, though I expected nothing less.”_ _

__“Of course, Professor,” Harry replied, the corners of his mouth twitching up. “What was it you wanted to see me about?”_ _

__“Come, Potter, take a seat,” she said gesturing to the straight backed wooden chair in front of her desk. He sat. “What did you think of the Task today?” Harry was taken aback by the unexpected question. It wasn't like Professor McGonagall to beat around the bush like this._ _

__“Oh well I… it was really interesting. Really tense and exciting. Teo- Teodora, the Durmstrang champion, really stood out. But the others were impressive too. Um… why?” McGonagall looked over her glasses at Harry._ _

__“Well, the clue on the cloth is this,” she said rifling through a few papers on her desk, plucking one from the pile and sliding it over the desk towards Harry.  
The piece of parchment before him read: ‘?dead.’ “However, it will only be visible in moonlight. What's more, the piece of cloth it is on is in the shape of a lightning bolt. Can you decipher it?” Harry let out a long breath. It was Hermione who was good at riddles and logic, not him. He'd figured out long ago that he was too impatient and unobservant for such things. _ _

__“I'm afraid not, Professor,” Harry said, shaking his head. Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips._ _

__“Well I can't say you tried very hard, but I thought as much. Let me explain. This clue simplifies to ‘question marked head.’ Does that help at all?” Harry's brow furrowed yet again, he shook his head. “Honestly, Potter, how you saved the wizarding world, I'll never know. Like I said, the cloth is in the shape of a lightning bolt. It refers specifically to you- more specifically your scar. Perhaps I should have asked you first, but it means that the champions will have to come to you to ask about the next task,” McGonagall explained, quite exasperated._ _

__“What? But I… I… I mean I don't know anything about the second task,” Harry said._ _

__“Why do you think I asked you here, Potter? That's what I'm about to tell you. Now listen. The second task will be one that involves some stress. Time pressure, to be precise, and the pressure to protect someone. It will also be somewhat similar to your third task, yet I have to admit it will be more challenging. And safer, of course, when it comes to precautions.” Harry nodded. He would have refused to be a part of something that could end in a similar way to his third task. Even thinking about it… he pushed it away for the time being, determined to focus on his instructions. He continued to listen to McGonagall, so that he would be able to respond to the Champions in the correct way._ _

__“Uh… Professor?” Harry cut in, and she looked up at him. “Why me? Why am I the one giving the instructions?” McGonagall smiled._ _

__“Well to be quite honest with you, Harry, I thought up the clue and it was too good not to use. But if anyone else asks, I suppose I can say that having a past Champion present the clue would only be respectful of him.” Harry chuckled. “Now, you understand what you're to do once a Champion figures out the clue and comes to you? I'm counting on you not to be biased on what you reveal to whom.” Harry confirmed that he understood. “Well then, you may as well get going, then. And do not reveal what I have told you to anyone. Not before the second task. You may go.”_ _

__Secrets. Harry wasn't usually a fan of them but this was a fun one. This one involved him in the tournament in a way that was pleasant and kept him out of the spotlight. He wondered who would be the first to figure the clue out._ _

__*_ _

__“The Yule Ball must be happening again this year,” Luna said, her whimsical voice floating through the air. “Oh I am so glad. I didn’t get to go last time. Not like all of you. I was too young, remember?”_ _

__It was late afternoon on the Sunday after the first tasks and a group of old friends plus Teo had met in the Room of Requirement, for old times’ sake. Harry hadn’t gotten together with all his closest friends for a good while. A fire was blazing and they were all sitting on multicolored blankets and pillows spread in a messy yet comforting manner over the floor._ _

__“Oh that’s right. Ginny and I went together last time,” Neville recalled, shaking his head at the thought. “We had a pretty good time though, didn’t we, Ginny?” She laughed, her head in Teo’s lap, red hair splaying onto the floor._ _

__“Yeah, we did. It was pretty good, I won’t lie. I just wanted to be able to go, so I was just thrilled that someone had asked me,” she said. Teo’s smile wandered from Ginny to Luna then._ _

__“In this case, Luna, we will have to find out what is in store for ourselves, as everyone else already knows,” she said, and Luna nodded in response._ _

__“The ball better be announced soon. It’s already much later than last time the Tournament was on,” said Hermione. “Speaking of the Tournament, have you two looked at your clues yet?” she asked Teo and Ginny, who both looked up at her._ _

__“Nah, haven’t tried anything yet,” Ginny said. “We only got the things two days ago, Hermione. But it’s in a lightning shape. The cloth that is. Very stereotypical, though.” Teo, too, was saying that she was yet to begin working out the clue.  
Hermione took this moment to stand up and leave the room. The others assumed she was going to use the bathroom, but when she re-entered the room a few minutes later, Philippe was with her. Subconsciously, Harry’s spine straightened as he entered the room. _ _

__“I thought it might be nice to have all our Champions together while we talk,” Hermione announced, taking a seat back next to Ron. Ginny lifted her feet off Harry’s legs where they had been and sat up, allowing plenty of space for Philippe to sit between them._ _

__“Hello Hogwarts folks,” Philippe said with a grin, his dark eyes twinkling. “Hi there, Teo,” he added, noticing the Durmstrang girl. Then a thought appeared to dawn on him. “I know I complimented you on your performance, but I never asked… how did you do it?” Teo raised her eyebrows at Philippe and wrapped an arm around Ginny._ _

__“How did I do what?” Ron cut in then._ _

__“You know. You just went in there. And you weren’t affected by them at all! Or… at least it didn’t look like it,” he said, brow furrowed._ _

__“It was so impressive!” Neville piped up._ _

__“Come on, tell us!” coaxed Harry. Ginny looked at Teo._ _

__“Go on, tell them. It’s not like it’s a big secret,” she murmured and Teo sighed, resigning herself to it. Everyone else in the circle sat rapt to attention except Ginny who had clearly already heard this._ _

__“Alright then. I was not expecting to act how I did yesterday. I had a backup plan of course. Never should you be sure of yourself when so much could go wrong. But it was okay. I was very lucky I picked the red, for it meant only the male sirens would be there. And never in my life have I been attracted to a man or anyone masculine. Perhaps this is simply lucky for me, for once, because it did not affect me. I felt nothing. This is why I laughed. I did not know it was possible for sirens to not affect a person, yet here I am. And for the singing, I am not quite so sure. I know that sirens had never been seen anywhere with music and I had heard a story. Down in Croatia where my mother is from they have many sirens and so, they have many rumours. One was that a siren can only hear music from its own kind. My Grandmother told me a story…” she drifted off, gazing into the distance._ _

__“What was the story?” Luna prompted, her large eyes blinking, eager for more. Even Ginny looked as though she hadn’t heard this part._ _

__“My grandmother told me that when she was only a girl, she saved a young siren boy from an underwater rock cave. She was a very strong swimmer, my grandmother, and very magical too. She saved him, and they… well, I don’t know how true it is, but they fell in love. It was a secret and lasted until she turned seventeen and came of age. He told her many things, and she told him many. He told her that when he was with her, she had power over him. She did not believe it, but he told her she could hurt him if she sang. She asked why she was not in danger of his song and he replied that it was because he was loyal to her and because of that, he could do nothing.  
“But then one day when she saw other sirens attacking her little brother, calling to him, she sang to them until she reached them. They disappeared, but so did her little brother. Although she still imagines it some days, since she used that secret to hurt the sirens, she never again has seen that siren boy. Nor has she seen her little brother.” _ _

__For several seconds after the story was over, the room remained silent. It was Luna who made the first move, laying one of her pale hands on Teo’s tan one._ _

__“That was a beautiful story. Thank you for sharing it with us,” she said softly. Harry felt his fondness of Luna showing on his face. She didn’t get enough credit. She was more emotionally mature than the lot of them put together.  
Ginny squeezed Teo’s waist. _ _

__“It’s dreadfully sad, but… I’m glad she managed to help you,” Hermione contributed. “You’re a wonderful storyteller, too.” Harry glanced at Philippe. They made eye contact and Harry realised that neither of them knew what to say in this sort of situation.  
Teo, though, shrugged and grinned. _ _

__“Yes, it’s a tale of tragedy, it is true. And I do believe the story, but my grandmother is happy now, even if this occasion caused her sorrow. And if she can be cheerful, then I can also,” she decided, lifting the spirits in the room back up and making Harry sigh with relief that he wouldn’t have to think of something sentimental to say. Teo noticed this and pointed him out._ _

__“You’re pleased that I am happy. You are not good with emotions, Harry. You must learn to get in touch with what you are feeling, because I know that you do not know,” she said, a twinkle in her eye. Harry was rendered speechless. Shit. So she was incredibly intuitive as well! What did this girl not have? Harry gestured at Philippe, indicating that he was the same, but Teo looked unconvinced. “No, he is different. Do excuse me, Philippe, but you are not good with your emotions, because you are bad at lying about them. You are honest with them, I believe. But not Harry. He will not let himself feel.”_ _

__Teo was so right. She knew it exactly, yet did not know that she had struck a chord deep inside him with that. He felt the pang vibrating up through his stomach and chest. Doing his best to ignore it, Harry grinned and threw a pillow at her and they all laughed. They were still laughing when the door to the room reopened and a girl with straight dark hair poked her head in._ _

__“Hermione, can’t you stop inviting people to things?” Ron hissed at his girlfriend._ _

__“Pansy! Come sit with us,” said Hermione, ignoring Ron’s query._ _

__“Oh, I brought a friend along. I hope that’s alright,” she said and stepped into the room. She turned her head away. “Come on! Stop sulking, Draco you’re being ridiculous,” and sure enough, the haughty posture of Draco Malfoy was the one to begrudgingly follow Pansy into the room. “It’s not like I forced you to come with me,” she continued, and Harry and Ron exchanged a look. “I think it’s good that you’re taking a break from doing those endless stupid impressions that you never even let me see.”_ _

__“Are you making Impressions, Draco? I would love to see them. It’s one of my many hobbies you see,” Luna informed him and Harry, studying the blonde’s face could swear that he was suppressing a smile._ _

__“Impressions, hm? I must say your last one I saw was very impressive. I wish Harry would take after your example. The two of you could make a lovely exhibition between the two of you,” Hermione said, appearing blank faced, but her and Pansy giggled at one another. Harry rolled his eyes and exchanged slightly disgusted looks with the Weasleys while Pansy and Malfoy sat down in the circle which seemed to grow as they did so, allowing everyone more space._ _

__“Can you not, Hermione?” Harry grumbled._ _

__“Come on, Harry. You’ve hardly been flying this year. It’s weird. And that impression was… well, it would be a good way for you to spend your time,” she said. Ginny sat up and stared suspiciously at Harry._ _

__“Hold on, boy, what’s this? What ‘impression,’ and why haven’t I heard about? It appears to have been big news,” she said, tucking a lock of red hair behind her ear. Harry groaned, and caught Malfoy’s eye. They glared across the circle at each other until Malfoy ceased to look angry and blinked away from the eye contact, leaving Harry bemused._ _

__“Now that it’s been brought up, I think I might like to hear about this,” Philippe added, nudging Harry with his elbow. Seeing Harry’s red and thoroughly unamused face, however, he countered. “Or not. Not a problem for me. You never are, Potter,” and Philippe winked at him. Again. Harry’s eyes found Malfoy who had twitched at the sound of Harry’s last name, and at the sight of the wink._ _

__“Don’t call me Potter. That title of mine is reserved for… a dreadful thorn in my side,” Harry said, quite unsure of why he was saying it.  
It was at this point, though, that Hermione, Pansy and Ron had launched into the story of that Transfiguration class, leaving Harry and Malfoy both groaning, hiding their faces beneath their hands. _ _

__“For fucks sake, is this really necessary?” Malfoy asked, throwing his hands in the air. “Because if it is, I’m getting out of here. And I literally just got here”_ _

__“Me too. Although it breaks me to agree with Malfoy,” Harry confided and both boys stood. Philippe tried to get Harry to stay, but as the talking and giggling continued in the circle, he and Malfoy weren’t up for remaining there any longer than was necessary, so instead, Philippe slipped a bit of parchment into his robes just before both he and Malfoy stormed out of the room._ _

__*_ _

__There was a bit of an awkward silence post leaving the Room of Requirement._ _

__“Not my finest moment, that incident,” Harry said, breaking the silence._ _

__“That’s arguable,” Malfoy responded in an off-hand manner, beginning to walk, and Harry fell in line with him. “I mean, it was rather gorgeous, that impression.”_ _

__“Come off it!” exclaimed Harry, staring incredulously at the blonde boy. “You didn’t like them talking about it any more than I did!”_ _

__“Well, perhaps not, but at least I can recognise beauty in something consciously, rather than blindly confessing to it and then later denying it,” said Draco calmly, continuing to look straight ahead. “There is a reason that sirens look like that, you know. It’s in order to be irresistible.” He flashed Harry a short smile. Harry struggled finding words to tug his tongue around._ _

__“Okay, so maybe I practically told you that you’re both hateful and pretty, but everyone knows that. _You_ know that,” he said. Draco nodded, admitting that this was true, but before he could say anything else, Harry spoke again. “Hold on just one minute. Before did you not just practically say you consciously recognised beauty in _me_? That sinks you just as low.” Malfoy did not lose his cool. _ _

__“No, I said I consciously recognised beauty in the impression. There’s a difference. The artwork versus the subject.” Harry was skeptical but fell silent. They walked down a flight of stairs without a word before Harry started up again._ _

__“So what’s with you still making Impressions? Did your first work of me simply inspire you to continue?” he asked with a grin._ _

__“Please, Potter,” Malfoy spat, but his eyes were darting all over the place. “I’ve said it before, and again, don’t flatter yourself. And before you ask, no, there is no way I’m showing you them.” Hasty, thought Harry. Silence ensued once more._ _

__

__“Fucking hell I… I’m sorry I stormed out on you when you were… trying to help me,” Malfoy blurted. Harry stopped dead in his tracks, absolutely shocked that Malfoy would say anything of the sort._ _

__“I’m sorry what was that? Did you just..?” His eyes were wide and blinking at the pale face that was looking everywhere but back at him._ _

__“ _Yes_ , okay? Yes. And don’t make me say it again, because I’m not going to.” _ _

__“I um… I appreciate that. Are you… going to visit your dad then? Or…” Harry drifted off, attempting to remain sensitive about the subject at hand. Malfoy recommenced walking down the corridor towards the common room._ _

__“I haven’t yet. We write. But I don’t know if I… if I can. He’s doing alright. At least… as alright as someone can be in Azkaban,” he said, eyes fixed on the floor a few feet ahead of them. He stopped and stared at Harry. “Why the fuck am I telling you this, Potter? Do shut up.” Harry frowned and gulped._ _

__“Maybe we should try it. The whole being okay with each other thing? It might be easier,” Harry suggested. His mouth was dry, and his eyes stung. He hadn’t blinked in a while, since he’d been looking so intently at Malfoy._ _

__“Maybe we should,” Malfoy said, looking away. They began walking again and had only gone a few steps when the blonde stopped again. “Oh god, _please_ tell me this doesn’t mean I have to stop calling you Potter, even if I’m no longer directly a thorn in your side?” _ _

__“Fuck no,” Harry scoffed. “The mere thought of it… Not possible. No.”  
This didn’t make the walk back any less awkward. It was still silent until Draco took it upon himself to speak. _ _

__“Well this is a step forward in you admitting your deep undying attraction towards me that’s been going on these past seven years,” he said._ _

__“Okay because that's definitely how it’s gone. Because you clearly weren’t obsessed with me,” Harry responded sarcastically. “You know you liked it when I spoke Parselmouth to you.”_ _

__“Currently I think you’ll find more evidence leaning in my favour,” Draco countered coolly. “Although,” he added, a sour look gracing his features, “you seem rather taken with that Beauxbatons bloke.”_ _

__“He’s attractive, admit it,” said Harry._ _

__“He isn’t unattractive, but I, unlike you, am not queer, Potter,” Malfoy insisted._ _

__“Sure you’re not Malfoy. And you’re not jealous of him either. And I’m secretly Professor Slughorn,” he joked._ _

__“Fuck off, Potter, I thought we were okay now.” Harry grinned at Draco as a slight flush of pink appeared across his pale face._ _

__“Oh we are okay. Very okay. We are no longer enemies and no longer dislike one another. But that doesn’t mean that it’s not on. Because oh, it is on.”_ _

__*_ _

__“This has got to be the Yule Ball meeting. Fourth years and up? Houses meeting in separate locations?” Ron said, shaking his head at the poster on the wall of the library as they sat at a table, he and Harry pretending to study while Hermione actually did._ _

__“Oh yes, it is. I saw Professor McGonagall the other day. She said that the optional dance tutorials for those attending the ball are no longer optional. Except for eighth years,” Hermione informed her two friends. Both boys sighed with relief. Harry knew that neither he nor Ron held any interest in learning to dance properly. Harry had been forced to learn four years back so that he wouldn’t look like an idiot in front of everyone, but now that he had the basic knowledge of how to waltz, he held no desire in knowing anything more.  
“I still expect you to dance with me, Ronald,” Hermione said, putting an arm around his waist. “Unless you’re not on par with Viktor, that is.” Phrasing it as a challenge was the only way she would get Ron to do this, and all three of them knew it. _ _

__“Who said I was taking you?” Ron asked, grinning, earning himself a smack on the shoulder._ _

__“I don’t know. I was thinking of going back to Grimmauld Place for Christmas,” Harry said, which, he felt, did not quite warrant the audible gasp it received._ _

__“Oh no you don’t! Christmas is a time for family and joy, and it is your last chance to have Christmas at Hogwarts,” Ron insisted, clapping a hand down on his friend’s shoulder. “It’s the Yule Ball! They get great musicians, everything looks magical, and the food…” Ron drifted off at the thought of the food._ _

__“It might be awkward though, I mean everyone else is going with people, and I’m not,” Harry said. He didn’t feel any external pressure to get a date for the ball this time around, but he really didn’t feel like third-wheeling. It was getting a bit frequent for his liking._ _

__“Don’t worry so much Harry. If you don’t find anyone, just ask a friend to go with you,” Hermione was saying as Harry thrust his hands into the pockets of his robes and felt a small piece of parchment in his left pocket. He tugged it out to find it was a note in loopy handwriting with his name written at the top._ _

__“What’s that, mate?” Ron queried. Harry felt fluttery and highly conflicted all at once, though he wasn’t quite sure why he felt conflicted.  
At least he wouldn’t feel _completely_ lonely in the lead up to Christmas._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave any questions and comments below! I love to hear what people think ^^
> 
> Ugh I do like Philippe a lot. I'm gonna make myself sad. I know it.  
> Also I love Teo and Ginny so much!  
> And why' Harry gotta make everything a competition? He's stupid.


	8. Secret's Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philippe is expressing a little interest in Harry. 
> 
> Harry and Draco know each other better than they think, and hey, isn't Potions class full of surprises?

_The secret is out--_   
_Of this there is no doubt._   
_Never a secret at all_

The piece of parchment hadn’t said much. Simply: ‘Harry, in the clock face window of the front tower. Wednesday at six. Be there. Philippe x.’   
When he’d showed his friends, Ron hadn’t seemed too bothered about it, and Hermione, although she tried to hide it looked very disapproving of the situation, although Harry had known better than to question why that was. 

Now, walking up the square-spiral staircase to the clock face, Harry could not deny that he was feeling something. Not necessarily that he was being emotionally swayed or affected, but something. Being around Philippe made Harry feel in awe of this younger, bigger, more handsome, and possibly more talented boy.   
Philippe was already standing there on the wide ledge behind the clock face, staring out into the grounds which were coated in the constant frost of very early December. Harry expected it would snow before the week was out. 

Upon hearing Harry’s footsteps on the cold granite stairs, Philippe turned around, that heart-stopping lopsided smile on his face. 

“Hello there, Harry Potter. I was wondering if you would come to meet me,” he said. 

“I… I’m not late, am I?” Harry asked, surprised, as he’d purposely set out early from the common room. Philippe let out a soft chuckle. 

“Oh no, you’re not. I’m just always early,” he explained. “I love this view,” Philippe continued, turning back to the window in the clock face. “It’s nothing like at Beauxbatons. It’s beautiful there too, but this is just different. I’ve been to England before, but never Scotland. It’s different. I think it’s special.” 

“It’s nice. This place is so full of stories and memories,” Harry managed to say after a few seconds. He joined Philippe by the window. “Good and bad.” Philippe smiled at him out of the corner of his eye. 

“Tell me one. Tell me one that happened down there,” Philippe said, nodding towards Hagrid’s hut. Harry thought. There had to be a good one that he’d be able to tell, and what his mind originally spun to was the big tale of his third year when he had freed Buckbeak and helped Sirius escape, but something stopped him telling that story. It was too close to his heart for comfort, and Philippe was intimidatingly perfect. He settled instead on the tale of Hagrid and the blast-ended skrewts. In retrospect, it was a funny story to tell, although it had been somewhat terrifying at the time. Philippe roared with laughter by the time he was through.

“Sounds like a really competent teacher,” Philippe said sarcastically, his eyes teary with laughter. Harry got defensive. Whenever Hagrid was brought up in a negative connotation, Harry couldn’t help it. Hagrid had arguably been the truest, purest friend and father figure to Harry. 

“Hagrid is wonderful. He’s so smart, and knows so much. He just… doesn’t have the same idea about what’s dangerous as most people do,” Harry said, his voice stiff all of a sudden. 

“Easy there, Harry. I meant no harm. I’m sure he’s great. He deals with them winged horses better than the folks back at Beauxbatons do,” Philippe said, and Harry relaxed. “I’m sorry for keeping you, by the way. I’m sure you have a lot of work to be doing at the moment.”  
It was true, Harry did have quite a bit of work to do, but as an eighth year, having already learnt much of the NEWT material, it could have been much worse. 

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Harry said, brushing it off, as he internally began to worry about it. 

“I know that on the last weekend before the holidays all you students are going down to the village. Would you show me around? We could make it a date,” Philippe suggested. His eyes weren’t pleading, just playful.   
There were always reporters in Hogsmeade around the time of an event such as the Tournament, Harry thought, but he simply couldn’t say no. 

“Yes,” he said a little too certainly. “I mean… sure, that would be nice. Cool. Yeah.” Philippe chuckled. 

“Alright then. In case we don’t see each other, let's meet by the front gates at half past nine?” 

“Great,” Harry burst out. “I'll see you then.” Philippe didn't seem at all flustered as he nodded and made his way back down the steps. Harry was thrown by how cool he remained, being slightly jealous, and quite in awe before something in his mind began kicking.   
Something about this was wrong, but Harry ignored that feeling and, turned back to stare out the window. As he did so, the memory of Malfoy insulting hippogriff Buckbeak back in third year simply to show off and disrupt Hagrid’s first lesson came to him. It had been awful for Hagrid and everyone at the time, but Harry couldn't help but smile at the thought of what a dreadful child and drama queen Malfoy had been. If he was honest, he didn’t know if much had changed. 

*

“Harry, speak to me,” Ginny demanded, catching him on the way to breakfast the following Monday. 

“Hi Ginny. What do you need?” he responded. 

“You're one of the best rule breakers I know and I need advice,” she began. “McGonagall only said that each Champion should have a partner to the Yule Ball.” Harry nodded, understanding as they neared the Great Hall. 

“And you're quite sure that it wouldn't be considered normal or proper for two champions to go together but you want to take Teo.” Ginny looked taken aback by Harry saying this. 

“Yeah. I do want to take her. I'm truly shocked you figured out what was going on so quickly. It's not like you, Harry,” Ginny joked.   
Harry rolled his eyes at her. 

“You do me a great dishonour, my dear,” he responded. 

“You know what? I'm going to take her. Or at least ask her. Who cares, right?” Ginny said indignantly. 

“What did you need me for? You figured it out for yourself,” said Harry as they entered the Great Hall. 

Over by the back table, Hermione, Pansy and Teo were all talking together, each looking very invested in the conversation. Harry and Ginny exchanged a look. 

“Of course I do not think so,” Teo was saying. “This is not together. Not two sided. But _they_ are very much. I do not know if he knows it, but the other one, I think he does.”   
The three looked up as they noticed Harry and Ginny.

“Hey. What's going on?” Ginny asked, wrapping an arm around Teo’s waist.   
Hermione looked suspicious but Teo and Pansy remained cool headed as they both responded with: “Nothing.” 

“Come, let us go and eat,” Teo said, leaning up to kiss Ginny on the cheek and leading her towards the Gryffindor table. 

“Who were you talking about, Hermione?” Harry muttered in her ear. “I know it isn't nothing.” 

“Never you mind. Let's eat.” Instead of sitting at the end of the table, Hermione sat down with Pansy, Blaise and Draco. Harry hesitated, and Ron arrived, making him feel a little more comfortable, taking a seat next to his friend, across from Blaise. 

It was an awkward affair, that breakfast. None of them spoke much at first. Harry was continually catching Malfoy’s eye and looking awkwardly away. When anyone did speak, it was generally to their usual friends. A few times, one person would offer someone else food. 

“Harry, would you like some jam?” Pansy asked, offering the glass bowl. Malfoy reacted to this instantly by tearing the bowl out of her hand and replacing it with a different one. The whole group stared at him. 

“Potter’s allergic to raspberries,” he muttered, looking deep into his mug of tea. Looks travelled around the circle along with suppressed grins as Harry felt his face going red. 

“Thank you, Draco,” he said. 

Hermione cleared her throat to break the moment. 

“Anyone need some more tea?” she asked, lifting the silver pot off to her left. 

“Please,” Malfoy said, offering his almost empty mug. 

“What are you doing?” Harry questioned, pushing Draco's hand away from the teapot. “That's white tea. You hate white tea.” Draco stared at him, completely befuddled. 

“Okay how the fuck did you know that?” he asked. 

“You can't be serious, Draco,” Blaise said, rubbing a hand over his high arched cheekbones. “How did you know that Potter is allergic to raspberries? Same thing! We get it. You-” Pansy gave Blaise a fierce look and he fell silent before asking: “Harry can you pass the black tea, then?”   
Harry's stomach had clenched with embarrassment but he passed over the round, brass teapot. In spite of that, while Draco poured himself tea, he raised one eyebrow at the blonde who glared back at him before raising both back at him in a suggestive manner. Harry continued to hold his gaze until Malfoy looked away. Harry sort of wished he hadn't. 

“House unity is kind of tough this year,” Blaise brought up. “Especially for the Slytherin kids.” 

“I didn't know you were one for house unity. You seem like more of a house pride person,” Ron countered. 

“Just because someone has house pride doesn't mean they're not all for house unity. You've always been somewhat anti-Slytherin, haven't you Weas- … Ron?” Blaise responded, quick as lightning, spearing scrambled eggs on his fork. 

Ron was rendered silent. Everyone knew it was true. 

“I was, yeah,” he managed. “I guess I still am a bit? It's not that I try to…” 

“In that case I don't think it right for you to comment. I won't say I was always okay with all the houses but prejudice is too easy when everyone else gangs up on your house. We have to stick together you know. But I think this eighth year thing is helping. People's friends are in with people who were in other houses and all that,” Blaise said. 

“House unity, school unity, it goes together this year with the tournament and all,” said Pansy cheerfully. “Can't wait for the Yule Ball. That will have all the unity and a bunch of fun. You lot got dates yet?” 

“Nah,” Ron joked. “Might go alone.” 

“Honestly Ronald. Fine. Will you come with me to the ball?” Hermione asked. 

“Very progressive,” Pansy said. 

“Well I have to be, with this one, don't I?” Hermione looked back at Ron. He'd gone quite red. 

“Of… of course I will. I was only joking you know,” he murmured. 

“Oh I know. But it was annoying me,” Hermione said and kissed her boyfriend on his very pink cheek.   
“How about you, Blaise? Going with anyone?” 

“Not yet. Trying to get with this seventh year Ravenclaw boy. Ryan Guilders. I have a thing for that light hair,” Blaise told them with a grin.   
Harry glanced at Draco whose silvery blonde hair was perfectly coiffed and as ever, seemed to glow. Had Blaise and Draco ever..? A pang went through Harry as he thought this. He didn't like the thought at all, and it wasn't likely. I mean Draco did say he was straight. Not that Harry believed it. 

“Well you'd better get a move on then, Blaise. We only have two more weeks of school. Almost three before the ball,” Pansy said, counting the remaining weeks on her fingers. “I'm going with this gorgeous Durmstrang guy. He's ugh, he's perfect.” Pansy then went on to tell them all about this boy. 

*

Harry and his friends continued to change their seating amongst the back table. He began to appreciate his classes a lot more, as they became more open with how the students chose to approach the tasks at hand. Essays were still necessary and frequent, and Harry still procrastinated dreadfully, but when he wrote them at long last, he found he knew most of the information and came to enjoy each sentence. 

Potions class was one that could still be irritating, with Horace Slughorn still trying to collect a few of the eighth years to no success. However, it was also quite an interesting class. Harry was not top in the class as he had once been, thanks to Professor Snape’s handy old book. Draco and Hermione were but they were not competitive. At least Draco wasn't. It was a reasonably sized class and we'll structured, usually. But on that particular Tuesday, no one knew what was in store. 

“Welcome, all,” Slughorn greeted the class. He was holding a small seemingly empty cauldron in his hands. “I know I didn't assign you anything for this class. That is because all our Potions we have been brewing or learning about are a possibility for today.” Harry looked over at Ron who shrugged back at him. 

“In this cauldron,” Slughorn continued, “are slips of parchment. Each has the name of a potion on it. Whichever potion you pull out, you will have to recreate for yourself. At the end, we will all switch and guess which potion is in the cauldron.”   
Whispers circled the room, some excited, some nervous. 

“What potions do you reckon are in there? Bet I want remember what mine is by name,” Ron whispered causing Harry to chuckle. 

“You may not look at anyone else's work, nor may you tell anyone what your potion is,” Slughorn announced, raising his voice above the whispers. Harry was nervous, he admitted to himself, but he noticed that Draco looked cool and confident. Draco would definitely know his potion by name, Harry decided.   
“Please line up and take a slip of paper out of the cauldron.” 

Harry watched everyone's reactions to receiving their potion. Confident nods, excited squeals, groans, utter confusion. Ron looked relieved. Blaise was hesitant. Draco showed no reaction. Hermione gave a knowing grin, as if she knew something important that they didn't.   
When Harry picked a piece of parchment out of the cauldron, he moved towards his own workspace and read the name of the potion. 

‘Revival potion’ the words read. Well, Harry thought, that was alright. A Revival potion would bring an unconscious person back to full consciousness. That was alright. Harry had made similar potions before including sleeping draughts, so this would be somewhat like an antidote therefor. He felt alright about it as he unpacked his things and began chopping up Gerdy Roots. 

Around the classroom, others were flipping through their potions books. Some had not yet begun. Hermione appeared to be struggling as she crushed beetles beneath the flat side of her knife, her eyes darting around for the next ingredient. She appeared to have a lot to do this lesson. Ron was smiling to himself as he wrote down some notes on a blank piece of parchment that he seemed to have stored in his memory. Hannah Abbot was frowning at her Potions book, having trouble with what was written there, apparently. 

Most of the ten students walked periodically to the store cupboard and back with extra ingredients. Ron was the only one who never seemed to. Harry went a few time to collect fire seeds and Billywig stings to add to his own potion. Slughorn walked around the room, picking the pieces of parchment next to each student up to find out what potion they were making.   
Harry was very relieved when Slughorn stopped by his potion, read his piece of parchment and sniffed the concoction. He had given an encouraging nod before walking off. 

The first hour of the double-potions class passed very quickly, and Harry looked into his cauldron. A clear, bright blue liquid was spinning as he stirred it. It was not at all viscous and flowed almost like water. Harry added three more fire seeds and smelt the potion. It smelt electric and cold. Flipping through his Potions book, he discovered that this was perfectly how it was meant to be. However, Harry still had fifteen minutes to spare. 

“You must have had a really easy potion,” Harry said, wandering over to Ron who had been pretending to be busy for at least ten minutes already. 

“Oh yeah. It was great. But I’m still ‘putting in the finishing touches’,” Ron explained with finger quotes. Harry laughed as he wandered to the store cupboard, pretending to be looking for more ingredients. After reading the label on most of the boxes, Harry turned back to the classroom. 

Malfoy also seemed to no longer be busy, so Harry walked up behind him, careful to tread silently. Malfoy was standing, staring into his cauldron full of viscous smooth purple, and stirring it lazily. 

Leaning up to reach Malfoy’s ear, Harry whispered: “Looks pretty fantastic.” Draco jumped and flushed slightly pink. 

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he hissed. “We’re meant to keep to ourselves.” 

“Like Slughorn cares. And don’t pretend you don’t enjoy the pleasure of my company,” Harry retorted. Draco turned his eyes towards him, looking him up and down. 

“Trust you to seek me out for...” Draco’s eyes paused on Harry’s mouth and he felt himself go warm. “Entertainment.” Harry grinned to hide the fact that his stomach had leapt inside him. This was comfortable and exciting and slightly electrifying? It felt good to Harry to be able to mess around like this, but wow, was it irritating beyond all else. 

“I only aim to please,” Harry said, determined to get back at Malfoy, and he winked. He watched Malfoy’s Adam’s Apple move up and down as he swallowed, and Harry chuckled. 

“Oh yes, I’m sure you would find me rather pleasing,” Draco said, close to Harry and looking almost straight down at him. His voice was slow and controlled. 

“Harry, Harry. I hate to have to tell you off,” came Slughorn’s voice and both boys were jolted back to reality, spinning about. 

“No. Of course not. Sorry Professor,” Harry burst out, and he walked back to his own workspace, stirring his potion and flipping aimlessly through his textbook. 

 

After several minutes, Slughorn raised his voice. 

“An hour and a half are up! Some of you have been finished a while, and others… well, hopefully every potion is complete. Now, if each of you will spoon out a cupful of your potion into the identical black cups I have passed out during the lesson. I have magically marked each one, so I will know which belongs to whom,” he explained. “Ten, please clean out your cauldrons so we cannot see any remnants.” 

Harry picked up the black cup next to him and ladled the clear vivid blue potion into it before setting it back down on the table. He then took his wand out and pointed it at the ice cold potion which was sitting in the bottom of his cauldron. With a sweep of his wand, it was gone. 

“Everyone ready? Good. Good. And I know you’re all smart enough not to do this, but do not by any means taste this potion! You can’t be certain what it is. And now, let me switch these all around.” Slughorn whisked his wand around a little and the cups all came to him spinning around one another so that it was impossible to tell where which had come from. Then, suddenly, everyone had a new cup flying at them. Harry’s landed on his side table and he looked around.   
“You have five minutes only. Good luck!” 

Harry glanced at his classmates. Terry Boot was testing the temperature and consistency. Hermione was first staring intently at her potion. Draco had given his potion one sniff and set it down away from him, looking very sure of himself. 

Harry lifted his cup and sniffed the liquid. It smelled sweet and delicious. Looking into the cup, he watched the bright yellow liquid shimmering slightly. A faint rainbow shone above the surface of the potion. Harry recognised the potion- it was one he himself had brewed back in sixth year in a class that he’d been able to choose which potion to make. Most of the class had been absent, and he’d wanted to cheer Slughorn up. Elixir to induce Euphoria. 

Harry remembered making it, although his had been made with the help of the ‘Half Blood Prince,’ otherwise known as Severus Snape. This Elixir lacked the extra spruce of peppermint that his had had, but the smell was intoxicating, nevertheless.   
Harry sat for the next few minutes stirring the potion and smelling it, absolutely entranced. 

“Five minutes are up, let’s see what we’ve got, shall we?” Slughorn announced, clapping his hands together. “Let’s start with you, shall we?” he said, pointing at Lisa Turpin, a tall Ravenclaw girl. Potions were identified and explained as the circle went on, matching each potion to its brewer, including Ron’s shrinking solution. 

“We made that in third year! Of course yours was perfect,” Harry hissed at Ron, incredulously. 

“Well, it was simply luck on Mister Weasley’s part. I mixed many levels of potions in the cauldron,” Slughorn informed him. 

Ron had received Padma Patil’s Draught of Peace and had fortunately, guessed and described accurately. Hermione had ended up with Blaise’s Strengthening Solution and the Euphoria Harry was holding had been concocted by Ernie MacMillan. 

“Mister Malfoy, what is it you’ve got there?” Slughorn asked, turning to Draco, who was next in the group. “I trust you recognise it, seeing as you didn’t take much time to look at it.”   
Draco was leaning coolly against his table as he had been for a good long while. 

“Essence of Self,” he said, certainly. “Essence of Self is a potion which must be made by the witch or wizard that the drinker wishes to transform into. If drunk every day for three months, the drinker will gradually physically and personality wise become the brewer of the potion, of course, with different memories. The very essence and self of a person is captured when the potion is brewed, including the smell and… feeling, if you will, of the brewer himself.” Harry was just thinking how eloquently Draco had put this when the blonde looked over at him. “For this reason it is not hard to tell who the brewer of this potion is. Excellent stuff, Potter,” he said, and Harry’s brow furrowed in confusion. That wasn’t his potion, so whose was it? Slughorn looked suddenly somewhat giddy and giggly. 

“Well well… that was… an excellent summary of the Essence of Self, Mister Malfoy. However, the potion in that cup is not Essence of Self, as I’m sure you would have noticed if you had managed to spend any longer examining it. It is a potion concocted by our lovely Miss Granger, although you can ask her about it after class, I’m sure,” Slughorn said, glancing from Draco to Harry and back.   
Harry, utterly bewildered, looked hard at Draco who looked startled as he picked the cup back up, looking into it and examining the steam. As he did so, a blush unfolded over his cheeks. Harry looked at Hermione whose eyes were wide. She too was blushing, but more from excitement and an attempt to suppress laughter and speech than anything else. What could it possibly be? 

Harry didn’t pay attention as Blaise identified his potion and complimented him as his name was matched to the Revival Potion. And when class was dismissed, Harry cornered Draco immediately in the hallway. 

“What was that potion? Why did Slughorn not make you name it?” he asked. Malfoy was still pink under his pale skin. 

“I think you’ll find it’s not your business,” he said, trying to push past Harry. It bothered Harry far too much to give up. It was prickling him from the inside out and he refused to be pushed around by Malfoy now. 

“Fucking hell, you thought that was the _essence_ of me. I think I should get to know!” he yelled. 

“No!” Malfoy shouted back. Harry rushed at him, as if to push him against the stone floor, but Ron appeared as if out of nowhere to pull him back. 

“Woah there, big boy,” came the redhead’s voice from behind him. Harry glared at Malfoy as the blonde took his chance to get away. “No need for such violence.” Harry relented and turned to face Ron and Hermione, shrugging his robes back into place. 

“We figured you’d be bothering him about the potion but that’s just silly, Harry,” Hermione said. Harry huffed. 

“Well, what was the potion then?” he asked. 

“I… I don’t know if it’s fair to Malfoy to say,” Hermione said, avoiding eye contact as she began to walk away down the hall. “I already had the rest of the class rowd me, asking and I didn’t tell them.” Harry caught up with her easily. 

“Yes but he thought is was my fucking _essence_. I think I have a right to know! That’s creepy, that is!” he insisted. 

“Fine!” Hermione yelled, stopping and throwing her hands in the air. “I guess you’re right.” She continued more quietly then. “It was.. No, I can’t. If you want to know, go and ask him.” 

“Oh yeah that was going well, wasn't it?” Ron cut in. “Come on Hermione, just spill the beans. Just this once. What potion did you make in class today?”   
Hermione muttered something under her breath. 

“Sorry?” Harry asked, leaning in closer. She muttered again.   
“Fuck all, Hermione. Just say it so we can-” 

“Amortentia,” she yelled, cutting Harry off. “And don’t you dare tell anyone,” Hermione said, pointing a finger at both of them.   
Ron’s eyes were on Harry, and Harry’s own eyes were wide, his stomach feeling like it was up by his heart. 

“But that would mean…” Ron began, looking from Harry to Hermione. Hermione nodded. “Well, fuck me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave any and all comments and/or questions in the comments! Each one means an incredible amount to me :)
> 
> Whoop! There it is! Classic headcanon that I love too much to resist including. It's just a great one. 
> 
> Is it obvious that I kind of love Philippe? Cuz I think it might be. I just find him so incredibly likable like oh my god I melt at him. I love him.


	9. Don't Deny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry does like the perfect Philippe, but he can't resist competing with Malfoy about everything.

_Strong and pretentious_   
_Blind to my senses_   
_Don't deny_   
_Don't deny_   
_Don't deny me_   
_Don't taint my heart_

“There’s no way. He hates me,” Harry finally managed to say. 

“Even you know that that’s a lie,” Hermione replied. “It doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s in love with you,” she continued, and the boys winced at the sound of the words. “The potion smells like what attracts you.” 

“Babe, I thought you’d be smarter about this. I don’t think that helps here,” Ron said, putting a hand to his head. “He thought it was Harry’s _essence_. How much more obvious does he have to be? It is kind of funny though.” 

“I doubt it’s funny to him. Now that three people know for sure. Although it’s not like a few of us haven’t guessed before,” Hermione put in, crossing her arms. 

“Stop it!” Harry shouted all of a sudden. “You can’t just tell how he feels because of a stupid potion that we don’t even know was brewed correctly.”

“Um… Harry? I doubt Hermione would get it wrong, and that’s kind of what Amortentia-” 

“No. It’s awful. Just standing here talking about him,” Harry continued, cutting Ron off. 

“Mate, that’s what you spend about eighty percent of your time doing. Talking about Malfoy,” Ron pointed out. Harry was just so… so _frustrated_! 

“Stop. Just… just don’t. I’m going to speak to him,” he said, and he stormed away from the couple towards the Eighth Year Chamber. 

 

Harry grabbed his invisibility cloak from his room and flung it over himself. He knew where Malfoy would be. He’d seen it enough times on the map. Harry followed one of the many passages around bends until he knew it was only another corner and he heard voices. 

“You don’t have to infuriate him like you always do,” Blaise’s voice came. “You could at least try to be nice. I think you’d probably have a chance too.” 

“Blaise, I don’t _want_ a chance with Potter. It really isn’t that weird. Pretty much everyone loves Harry Potter for one reason or another,” Malfoy’s voice came, sounding torn. Harry turned the corner and saw them talking just a few meters away, Malfoy on a stool behind an easel and Blaise sitting with his back against the wall on the floor.

“I won’t deny that he’s attractive,” Blaise responded, and Harry blushed. “But I, as another person, for one, can say that I am not in love with Harry Potter.” Malfoy groaned.   
“It’s not such a terrible thing you know. Ask him out or something.”

“Oh yes, great idea Blaise,” Malfoy drawled, his voice seeping with sarcasm. “That’ll work. Aren’t you hilarious?” 

“Hey, if I liked someone so much that Amortentia smelled just like them to me, I’d go for it,” Blaise Zabini replied, pushing himself up off the floor and dusting off his robes. 

“I still don’t know how you guessed what the potion was,” Malfoy said. 

“It wasn’t exactly hard. It didn’t surprise me, either,” Blaise replied. “Just… think about it. Maybe. Ask him out. The Chosen One’s pretty gracious, I’ve heard.” He winked at his blonde friend and walked right past Harry towards the common room. 

“Think about it,” Malfoy spat. “Yeah. Just ask him out. Simple as that. Just because Blaise makes those things look so easy.”   
Harry walked slowly and silently around Malfoy’s easel so he could see what it held. It was currently a blank slate, but Draco drew in a breath and closed his eyes. Aware that he would be intruding even more on Draco’s privacy if he left his cloak on, he slipped it over his head and stuffed it into his robes before tapping the blonde on the shoulder. Draco jumped and turned around on his stool. 

“What the fuck are you doing here Potter?” he asked. “How did you get here?” 

“With a little help from a cloak you once hid me under,” Harry replied, coolly. “Look I just came here to-” 

“What? I suppose Granger told you about her little potion? Filthy little snitch.” 

“Hey. Of course she did. You know I wouldn’t have rested until I found out. I’d have attacked you first,” Harry said. Draco scoffed and stood up so that Harry was looking slightly up at him. 

“I might have preferred that.” 

“Naturally you would have. Us, all hot and heavy, shoving each other around? You’d have loved it,” Harry chuckled, raising his eyebrows at Malfoy who went slightly pink but attempted to look unimpressed. 

“This changes nothing you know,” Malfoy said obstinately, yet he didn’t quite meet Harry’s eyes as he said so. Harry shrugged. 

“Alright. We’ll pretend you don’t crave me, and pretend that the first time I managed to sleep this school year wasn’t in your room,” he said without realising what had escaped his lips. Draco looked taken aback. 

“Wait, what?” 

“Fuck.” 

“You fell asleep in my room? Well, who’d have thunk it? It better not have been by using that invisibility cloak, because that’s creepy, Potter,” Draco said, unable to hide his laughter. 

“No!” Harry protested at once. “No, it’s nothing like that. It was the night before Halloween. The party. When you were drunk and I put you to bed and, well, I was leaning against your bed and I just… fell asleep.” 

“So it’s thanks to me that you sleep at night, huh, Potter?” Draco drawled with a smirk. 

“Oh I’m sure you find that to be so close to the perfect sentence, don’t you, Draco?” Harry grinned and ran his tongue along his top teeth. 

“Fuck off, Potter. Isn’t it enough to know what you found out today? It doesn’t mean anything, anyway. Amortentia’s a tough potion. Even if it is Granger, I don’t trust her to get it all right. Besides, the potion didn’t seem quite right.” Draco’s eyes went everywhere but to meet Harry’s own. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I mean, that makes me feel a bit better, but that wasn’t.. I shouldn’t’ve,” Harry said, trying to take back what he’d said before. He paused and looked around at the piles of slates, colours flashing where Harry could spot the underside. “Can I see one of your slates? A completed one?” Draco rolled his eyes. 

“Of course you can’t. Impressions are… somewhat personal, as you know. Merlin, you’re annoying,” he drawled. 

“You don’t think I’m annoying,” Harry said, flashing his teeth. “You think I’m great.” Draco rolled his eyes again, but he couldn’t hide a small smile. Not a smirk, or a sneer, but a genuine smile. Harry felt his stomach jolt and his mouth went slightly dry. 

“Clear out of here. I’m busy,” Draco told him, still with that small smile on his face. 

“Busy? Letting out your artistic side? Do you want me to stay? I could model for you,” Harry suggested playfully and he posed. 

“Get over yourself, Potter. I said clear out,” Draco muttered in a dangerously low voice, and fixing Harry with a stare so intense that he felt his insides turning. 

“Whatever you say, Draco,” Harry responded under his breath and left, unable to tear his eyes off the pale grey ones until he turned the corner of the passage. 

*

On Friday evening, several of the Eighth Year students were sitting in the common room. Many of them were laughing while Seamus and Ron were parading around imitating teachers. Harry noticed that Draco, though, who was sitting by Pansy, was silent, and when we glanced over, he would find Draco staring more often than not.   
Pansy was not a patient girl, nor was she unobservant, and she soon stood up, taking matters into her own hands. 

“Hermione!” she shouted. “It’s time. I can’t do this anymore.” Hermione stood up, her bushy brown hair scrunching around her shoulders. 

“Okay. Here’s the thing: all the eighth year students have dates to the Yule Ball,” Hermione announced. The six other students had fallen silent and were looking at the two girls now standing in front of the blazing fireplace. 

“That’s not true,” Harry cut in. “I don’t.” 

“Everyone that is,” Pansy continued, raising her voice, “except for our lovely local idiots: Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.” She gestured to each boy as she said this. 

“Therefore, we have a proposition. As neither of these fine young men have even considered who they might take to the Yule Ball, we are _challenging_ them to go together.” It sounded to Harry as though they had rehearsed this speech- something he found very disconcerting. He glanced at Draco and saw that the boy was almost as red in the face as Harry felt. 

“If they succeed, in going as a date _successfully_ , they may punish the rest of us in any way they choose. We will have rules that will be magically monitored. Do you accept this challenge, boys?” Pansy asked, looking knowingly between the two.   
The other people in the common room were looking on with bemused amusement. Seamus cheered and clapped. Draco looked as if he might murder one of the girls. 

“Pansy what the _hell_?” he hissed. “I told you…” 

“Yeah, maybe not,” Harry contributed, pushing himself out of the squashy grey armchair. His date with Philippe was niggling in the back of his mind. Though not swayed by it, Harry was excited. But spending a whole night with Draco? That could surely only go one way, seeing how they got under each other’s skin so easily, despite the fact that they were trying to be friends. The thought made his stomach twist the way only Malfoy could cause. Surely it couldn’t end nicely.   
Upon hearing this comment, all stress was immediately alleviated from Draco’s face as it spun towards him. 

“Maybe not?” he asked, smirking. “Why is that? Scared, Potter?” Harry glared back at him, the corner of his mouth twitching as nostalgia flooded through him. Harry liked to think he was mature enough now to not find competition in everything, but when it was Draco that was provoking it, he still just couldn’t help himself. 

“You wish.” Standing up, they moved towards one another and, daggers in their eyes, they shook on it. 

*

“You two go on ahead. I… I’m meeting someone,” Harry told Ron and Hermione as they made to leave the dormitory to leave for Hogsmeade. 

“Oh? And who might that be?” asked Ron, winking at his friend. 

“It’s uh… I’m meeting Philippe. We’re going together,” Harry explained. Hermione pursed her lips. “What is it?” Harry asked her. “Why don’t you like him? What’s not to like?” She raised her eyebrows. 

“Philippe’s definitely _likable_ ,” she said. “That’s what bothers me.” Ron scoffed at this. 

“What, someone nice shows interest in Harry and you label their charisma as bad? Honestly, Hermione, I don’t know where you get these thoughts. Have fun, mate. See you back here.” Ron steered Hermione away by the waist leaving Harry. 

 

At quarter past nine, he left the dormitory, determined not to be late. After all, Philippe had said that he was always early. Harry walked out through the shallow snow to the front gates of the school only to find his date already waiting there, leaning against the gate. 

“Hello there, Harry,” Philippe greeted him with a grin, pushing himself off of the gate and shortening the space between them with a few strides. Harry looked up at him, scanning his face. It was truly a lovely face. He gestured in the direction of Hogsmeade with a nod. “Shall we?” 

Once down in the village, they walked side by side, Harry pointing out shops and sites as they went. Philippe listened intently, shooting him sideways smiles or asking questions from time to time. The more looks they got from passersby, the closer Philippe seemed to become to him.   
He was just telling Philippe about the strangest sweets in Honeydukes when-

“Oh no,” Harry groaned, stopping in his tracks as his eyes were captured by curly blonde hair and horn-rimmed glasses. Philippe looked at him in a questioning manner before he, too, noticed the ditsy reporter. He brushed his fingers against Harry’s hand before taking it in his own. Harry let him. 

“It’s alright,” he said, nudging Harry with his shoulder. “Come on, let’s just get past them. Then we’ll go have a drink. Hey?” Harry gulped and nodded, squeezing the hand that almost enveloped his own.   
They’d only gone a few more steps when they were spotted. 

“Harry!” Rita Skeeter exclaimed. “How nice.” Her ever-present photographer flashed a picture while Harry was still unawares. “It’s been too long, darling.” His face screwed up in disgust. “And your friend here, why, Philippe Cheron of course! I was so disappointed when I wasn’t able to take the responsibility of being lead journalist over the tournament this year.” Harry glanced at Philippe only to find that he didn’t look that displeased by the current situation, so he tried to trust him. 

“I’m sorry, you are?” Philippe queried, reaching out his other hand to shake Rita’s. 

“Rita Skeeter,” she simpered, shaking his hand. “Daily Prophet reporter and author. Well, I must say this will make for a wonderful story: Harry Potter: the Queer Who Lived. That’ll get the readers spinning.” Harry couldn’t take it. 

“Hermione might have promised she wouldn’t tell your secret if you managed to keep your quill for a year, but I didn’t,” he snapped at the reporter who raise her eyebrows. 

“Now, Harry. I think we both know you’re too noble to do any such thing, hmm?”   
Harry seethed. He knew she was right as he felt Philippe’s arm slip around his shoulders. 

“Come on then, let’s go,” Philippe said before bidding Rita Skeeter and her photographer goodbye and steering Harry away as the camera flashed again at their backs. Approaching the Three Broomsticks, he spoke again.   
“She seemed…” 

“Awful,” Harry finished. “Don’t know if you remember the Daily Prophet articles from the last Tournament, but that? That was all her.” Philippe chuckled and squeezed his upper arm. 

“Oh yes. I remember. Some publicity you got back then. Crazy stuff. That was the first really interesting year the Daily Prophet had. It only got worse from there. I’m glad I never stopped getting it delivered.” 

“Yes, I’m sure it was hilarious hearing it all from your end,” said Harry rolling his eyes, but not wanting Philippe to think he was angry, he gave the taller boy a sarcastic smile.   
Philippe held the door open to allow Harry to enter first into the warm comfort of the three Broomsticks. 

“I assure you it was,” he said. “Now why don’t you find us a seat while I get the drinks?” 

“You don’t have to pay.” 

“I’m paying.” At Philippe’s insistence, Harry rolled his eyes, grinning before going to find them a booth in the far corner of the pub. Looking around, he scanned for familiar faces and found several, but none of consequence, and certainly none he was searching for. 

When Philippe reappeared, holding two pints of butterbeer. He scanned the room, and Harry waved to him, beckoning him over. 

“Believe it or not I haven’t tried this before,” he told Harry, setting the mugs down on the table. “It’s really mostly non-existent in France.” 

“No way! You’ve clearly been deprived. Drink up, then.” 

Their conversation was light and easy and fun, and both parties found themselves laughing quite a lot. When Harry laughed, Philippe would often just sit and study his face. It made Harry a little self-conscious and he often averted his eyes. 

“What?” he questioned. Philippe cocked his head. 

“Oh it's nothing. It's just that,” he raised a hand and stroked one thumb down Harry's cheek. “You're cute when you're laughing. I like seeing you happy. I don't know what I expected before I met you, but it wasn't this.” 

Harry grew flustered. He was jealous of Philippe and how, although he was younger, he seemed so sure of himself. Harry rarely felt sure of anything. 

“And you're cute when you blush,” Philippe added with a chuckle. “Listen, Harry Potter. I like you” Harry gulped. “You are more than meets the eye. And I was wondering-”

“Please don't do this,” Harry groaned, cutting him off and running hands through his hair.

“I'm sorry,” the dark boy said, adjusting his attitude without a hitch. “Perhaps I got the wrong idea. I assumed-” 

“No. You didn't. Look, I like you. It's hard not to, you know.” Philippe grinned at this. “But I wanted to stop you before…” he trailed off. 

“Before I managed to ask you to the ball?” he suggested, and Harry nodded. “Because you're going with someone else?” Again, Harry nodded. “Ah. Who with?” 

Harry felt sick to his stomach. Philippe wanting to ask him was disconcerting. Perhaps out of nerves? He did want to go with Philippe but that would mean backing out of the challenge and letting Malfoy win. 

“Draco Malfoy,” he muttered. His date nodded. Harry felt heat rising in his cheeks. This was embarrassing. 

“That's the blonde one isn't it? With the silver eyes?” Okay so Philippe was observant too. He nodded. 

“But it's not like one of us asked the other,” he hurried to explain. “It's stupid really. Our friends challenged us to do it. Didn't think we'd manage to be civil to each other all evening.” 

“I get it. My friends are much the same. Gotta love them though, don't you?” Philippe joked, never losing composure. “Is there really nothing going on between you two? I mean I wouldn't be surprised if you told me there was.” 

Harry thought about it, a little shocked. He felt a lot of things about Draco Malfoy. Dislike, sympathy, irritation… intensity. But attraction wasn't a thought that had crossed his mind. Not even the Amortentia incident had changed anything. Harry tried to trust Draco saying that the potion had been faulty. Romantic attraction didn't seem plausible, with all their history of obsession.   
Harry thought again. That hadn't come out right. But it was the truth, and it bothered him a little. 

“Nah,” he said, brushing the very brief thought off. “It's just Malfoy.”

“Well, I'm glad to hear that,” Philippe articulated. Unsure why, Harry frowned. “And I'm guessing you can't call off this bet?” 

“Well… I would but… I can't. It's nothing personal, it's just that I shook on it so even if I wanted to, I can't.” 

“I see,” said Philippe leaning back in his seat. “There's nothing like good natured competition, after all, and don't we both know it?” 

“With it _was_ good natured,” Harry muttered. “Maybe it will be, but he can be somewhat… unpredictable. Who can say for sure?” 

“You're going to have to save me a dance though, Harry.” He raised his eyebrows. He wasn't any good at dancing and he was sure Philippe was as brilliant at it as he was at everything else.

“I'll try. I'll see what the rules are.” 

“You don't seem like a rule abiding sort of bloke,” Philippe teased leaning in. 

“I assure you, I try not to be.”

*

Harry was in the library on the Thursday before the Christmas holidays were due to start. The teachers had no more major assignments due for him the next day, but he was reading up on wandless magic- a very challenging branch he had only ever known two wizards to be capable of. It was something that truly interested Harry, but not something he thought he'd be capable of in the foreseeable future, if ever. After all, simple nonverbal spells hadn't come easily to him at first. 

In his secluded corner of the library, Harry felt peaceful, reading away about wizards like Dumbledore and how wandless magic was attributed to being out of control. That was until a tall, lean, blonde figure tugged out the chair opposite him and sat quite unceremoniously. Quite un-Malfoy like. 

“Potter we need to discuss.” Harry raised an eyebrow and lowered his book flat onto the table. 

“Discuss what? Your desperate wanting of me?” Draco broke eye contact and clenched his jaw. 

“Sod off,” he snapped. “No. We need to discuss dress robes.” 

“What?” Harry asked incredulously.

“It's no secret who has the better fashion sense between the two of us, Potter. You can barely pull a decent outfit together on your best days.” Harry folded his arms. 

“Fuck you, Draco. But I'm listening. Go on.” It was so weird having a conversation about dress robes of all things with Draco Malfoy. At least it would mean he'd look good, if it was Malfoy approved, he thought to himself. 

“There’s is no way we’re matching. That's cringey. I'm wearing navy so that's out of the question for you.” Draco was making it sound all business, and Harry supposed it was, seeing how it was a deal. A challenge. And nothing more. 

“Navy, huh? Any reason?” Harry asked, the impression he’d made a few months back coming to mind. 

“None that I can think of,” Malfoy responded, not meeting his eye. 

“Well I have black or green dress robes. And I don’t intend on getting new ones, so either one will do fine.” 

“Green,” said Draco, a little too quickly, finally meeting his eyes again. Harry raised his eyebrows. 

“Green it is. I trust you’re looking forward to this dare?” 

“I’m not dreading it, I suppose,” the blonde admitted, but his teeth were gritted. “As long as I can get through it without you pissing me off too much. And if I can get under your skin, then I win.” Harry felt his chest prickling even at this little comment, but not unpleasantly. 

“We’ll see. But I warn you, you’re not as awful as you think you are, Draco.” Malfoy did a doubletake. 

“Was that a compliment?” he said, his face going pink, to Harry’s satisfaction. 

“Who knows? Not you, that’s for sure.” 

“We’re meeting in my dorm,” Malfoy said, standing up. “Before the ball, that is.” 

“That’s in a week,” Harry reminded him. 

“I know,” he snapped. “But I’m not having my date look anything less than fantastic.” 

“You think I can look fantastic if I try?” Harry queried, one eyebrow raised. 

“Please,” Draco told him, breaking into his all too familiar smirk, “ _you_ can look fantastic if _I_ try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!
> 
> Philippe got me swooning tbh  
> And I'm pumped for Harry and Draco!
> 
> Please leave any comments, queries, thoughts or concerns below! I love to hear people's thoughts!


	10. Shut Up and Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Yule Ball

_Oh don’t you dare look back_   
_Just keep your eyes on me_   
_I said you’re holding back_   
_He said shut up_

“There. I suppose that’s better,” Malfoy said, pulling Harry’s tie tighter around his neck. “Although if we’re going to go for formal, we’re going to have to do something about that hair. Sit down, I’ll see what I can do.” 

It was the evening of the Yule Ball, and Harry was letting Draco adjust his outfit to look ‘passable,’ as the blonde phrased it. It was strange to be in such close proximity to him without fighting. A few times Malfoy’s hand had lingered a little longer than was perhaps ordinary, irritating Harry’s skin through his robes or under the boy’s hand but he didn’t move away. 

“Do what you like,” said Harry, taking a seat on the end of Draco’s bed. “But I’m warning you: my hair doesn’t do what it’s told. Trust me. It’s been mine for eighteen years.” 

“Shut up Potter,” snapped Draco and to Harry’s surprise began combing his fingers through his hair. He felt his stomach prickle in response, but it felt… good, he decided. Harry turned his eyes to the navy robes across Malfoy’s chest which was right up in his face. In the light, he could make out the thinnest of thin lines scrawling across the fabric in patterns so intricate that they could barely be made out. It was impossible to deny that Draco had an eye for anything that looked good.   
The ex-Slytherin tugged his hands through the black mess, tugging a little as he did, making the prickling in Harry’s stomach grow suddenly, and was slightly pink when Harry looked up at him. Possibly with frustration.

Blaise entered the room without greeting them then, apparently thinking it completely natural that Harry should be sitting there while Draco ran his hands through his hair. 

“This is hopeless, Draco. Give up,” Harry said, exasperated. The blonde drew his long, slender fingers out of his hair and stepped back. 

“Maybe it’s you that’s hopeless,” Draco snapped, spitefully. 

“Not up to your usual standard of wit there,” teased Harry. Behind Malfoy, in front of the mirror, Blaise laughed. Both heads spun towards him. Their eyes met with Blaise’s through the mirror. 

“Hm? Oh you two just fight like a…” Draco shot Blaise a look, cutting him off. “Like… constantly.” Something about this didn’t add up to Harry. That’s not how the phrase went, after all, but he shrugged it off. Blaise nodded uncomfortably before announcing: “I should get going. Have a fun night, you two!” and he winked at them before whisking out on the room. 

“Right then, should we uh… go over the rules?” Draco asked, walking around and sitting on the edge of Blaise’s bed, facing Harry. He pulled a slip of parchment out of his robes which had Hermione’s neat print on it. 

“Fuck the rules,” Harry scoffed. 

“I’d expect nothing less from you, Potter. So in that case, thank you for letting me win.” Draco begin putting the slip of parchment away, but Harry stopped him. 

“No- stop. Fine. I’m good. Okay, what were they again?” Draco smirked as he sat back down on the bed and unfolded the parchment. 

“Alright then. One: you must be within seven metres of one another at all times,” he read. 

“Seven is an oddly specific number. Why’s it always seven?” Harry pointed out. Malfoy glared at him for a moment then went back to reading aloud. 

“Two: You must sit across from or next to one another at dinner. That’s not too hard. Three: You must dance together twice, and one song has to be slow.” 

“What?” Harry yelled. 

“Honestly, Potter. Did you even read this list?” Harry grumbled. It was true, he hadn’t bothered to check the list. He’d thought it wouldn’t be too bad, but dancing? 

“I can’t dance,” he blurted. 

“You could four years ago. Not well, granted, but you could. I’ll lead. I won’t have you embarrassing me in front of everyone,” Draco told him, going pink. “Not that simply _going_ with you _isn’t_ embarrassing enough.” 

“You love it,” said Harry, warranting him another glare. 

“Four: You are to remain in each other’s presence until midnight. (If we can last that long.) Five: You may not insult one another in a way that’s not playful. Hang on, how would they know?” 

“Don’t think I won’t tell them if you do. I’m winning this. Maybe they actually trust us?” 

“Winning this? Oh no you’re not. I’m going to assume that this doesn’t start until we’re at the ball, so let me call you an arrogant arse now, for thinking that.” Harry bristled, digging his fingers into the bedclothes on either side. It had been a pathetic insult, but he couldn’t help it. He wondered again if him winning was really a realistic thought if he allowed Malfoy to affect him like this. Malfoy scrutinized him, taking in his demeanour.   
“Well if that made you behave this way, then no. You’re definitely not winning tonight.” 

“Are there any more?” Harry asked through gritted teeth. 

“Yes. Six: Both parties must actively attempt to make conversation. Seven: at least twenty minutes must be spent by yourselves. And eight, you must use the other person’s first name. Well, sound alright to you? Not planning on backing out, do you?” Draco raised his narrowed silver eyes to meet Harry’s, and the dark haired boy’s breath hitched with the intensity of the gaze. He recovered quickly. 

“Definitely not.” He stood up. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to handle that last one though. Can you even say my first name? By itself?” Malfoy scowled and didn’t open his mouth. “I guess we’ll find out. The entrance ceremony’s starting shortly. Shall we?” Harry offered his hand with a mischievous grin, but Malfoy’s ears went red and he simply scowled at him. 

*

“I am not spending all evening around your friends. No thank you.” 

“Awfully courteous of you. You forget though: our friends are actually friends. Ron and Blaise actually find each other funny. And Pansy and Hermione are very close, so don’t give me any of that bullshit,” Harry retorted as they approached the great hall. He drew in a long breath and let it out in an attempt to calm himself. “I’m sorry. I’m going to try to be civil.” 

Outside the Great Hall, everyone looked a treat. It was fun to see everyone in colours rather than the usual black robes, and the ball was a chance for everyone to express themselves physically. Couples and dates who were in different houses were meeting in the entrance hall, all with smiles on their faces.   
Harry chuckled as he remembered his last Yule Ball date- going with Parvati and having to open the dancing. Ron and Padma had been one of the many couples in different houses, but they had not looked quite so cheerful upon meeting. 

“Please make your way into the Great Hall. Dinner will commence in ten minutes. Champions over here please,” McGonagall said as she appeared at the side of the entrance hall in emerald robes. The students all began bustling noisily towards the door. 

“Well, would you care to accompany me into the great hall?” Malfoy asked in a pleasant voice, turning towards Harry and offering his arm. It was stranger than seeing Hagrid in a suit. Being spoken to politely by Draco Malfoy? What was wrong in the world?   
He hesitated. “I haven’t caused electric currents to run through it, you know,” Malfoy said in the same sweet tone of voice. Apprehensively, Harry slipped his arm into Draco’s, but he did indeed feel a jolt rather like electricity. These were such unfamiliar grounds he was treading upon. 

“What are you doing?” Harry murmured. 

“Some people would call it charm,” Draco explained, eyes straight ahead. “I call it winning.” Harry felt his insides prickle. 

He spotted Ginny and Teo on the way into the hall, both looking absolutely stunning, Ginny in stormy blue and Teo in shocking pink, which suited her surprisingly well. Harry waved at them and received an enthusiastic wave back from both girls. The two of them were getting more strange looks than Harry and Draco were, which he found rather odd. 

Harry and Draco filed into the great hall along with everyone else and found one of the many round tables, each seating around a dozen people. This was already occupied by Pansy and Blaise and their dates, as well as Ron and Hermione, a Durmstrang couple, and two Ravenclaws Harry didn’t know. The great hall itself looked a treat, and quite similar to how it had in fourth year. Rather like a winter wonderland. 

“It’s nice to be on this side of the doors before the first dance starts,” he said under his breath as he stood behind his seat and pulled his arm from Draco’s. Everyone had to stand until the Champions came in. 

“I like to think that last time was rather entertaining. You looked hilarious trying to dance alongside people who were incredibly attractive, and all taller than you,” was Draco’s input. 

“Oh be quiet, you find me incredibly attractive,” Harry joked. Draco looked over his face. 

“Mmh, perhaps,” the blonde analysed. “But I’m prettier.” Over the past week or so, Draco had seemed somewhat low key but this confidence was a comeback, and although Harry hadn’t noticed it before, if he didn’t know better, he might think that Malfoy was actually flirting with him. But of course that would be ridiculous. 

 

The Champions came walking into the great hall and everyone cheered, although several paused at seeing two of the Champions together. Competition and romance didn’t generally mix in most eyes.   
Philippe came after Ginny and Teo, arm in arm with a pale girl from his own school. He caught Harry’s eye and they exchanged smiles as the champions joined the teachers and Ministry officials at the round table at the front of the hall. The memory of their day in Hogsmeade flashed through their mind and he remembered their meeting with Rita Skeeter. Nothing had come out yet about that day and Harry was quite tense, waiting for something to be let out. He didn’t want it to be in the Daily Prophet, but he knew it was only a matter of time. 

Once the rest of the Great Hall was seated, Professor McGonagall took the menu from her silver plate and read out her order to demonstrate for all the students who hadn’t been at the last ball, that being almost everyone. Her meal appeared on her plate within a matter of seconds. 

“I’m choosing for you,” Malfoy announced, taking his menu up as Harry did the same. 

“That’s a little controlling,” he responded, taken aback. 

“I know what you like. Don’t fuss. I’m not going to poison you.” Harrs was agitated but allowed Malfoy to order him pork chops, much to his delight. Turning on the charm didn’t come as naturally to Harry as it did to Draco, but he did want them to at least somewhat be friends. 

“Thank you.” 

“I knew I was right,” Draco said, digging into his own meal. 

“You usually are,” Harry told them, making his date roll his eyes and go slightly pink. 

 

“How’s your date with the ferret going?” Ron asked to Harry’s left, checking to make sure Hermione was involved in her own conversation. Harry shrugged. 

“He’s being weirdly civil. Like he has this aristocratic charming air he can just switch on at will. I mean he’s still condescending, but actually, not so bad so far. Not that it’s been more than about fifteen minutes.” 

“Hermione and I have a bet on if you’ll both make it or not. I’m betting you won’t,” said Ron around a mouthful of potato. He swallowed. “I mean it’s no secret that you can’t keep your chill around the bloke.” Harry mocked being insulted. 

“Thanks for your faith in me, Ron. I really appreciate it.” 

When all the food had been consumed, Professor McGonagall stood and asked the students to do the same. Then, at a wave of her wand, the tables zoomed back along the walls, leaving the floor clear, and then she conjured a raised platform into existence along the right-hand wall. Musical instruments were set upon it.   
A new but immensely popular musical group made up of mostly witches filed onto the stage. Most of the small lanterns had gone out and the champions were moving to the middle of the floor. 

The band struck up a pleasant swinging beat and the Triwizard Champions began to dance. Harry had been right: Philippe was just as good at dancing as he was at everything else, moving very smoothly for someone of his size as he spun his partner around. Ginny and Teo appeared to simply be having a lot of fun with it, swinging each other around, Teo laughing into the taller girl’s shoulder. A fair few people were whispering and shooting unpleasant glances at the two girls.   
More people soon started joining the champions on the dancefloor until it was quite full. Harry and Draco were still standing, watching and listening. Harry shook off the awkward silence and turned to his partner, offering a hand. 

“May I have this dance, Draco?” he asked with a grin. Draco raised his eyebrows as if to ask ‘are you serious?’ but he took Harry’s hand and allowed to be lead onto the dancefloor. As he did so, Harry felt a shock travel through his hand and all through his body where they made contact. 

It was a little awkward starting out, Harry not knowing where to put his hands and forgetting how the whole dancing thing was supposed to work. He’d never done a swing either, so he took Draco’s waist and hand, feeling the same jolts as he did, and allowed him to lead. It was so unfamiliar to him: the two of them touching without there being a reason to hurt or protect one another and Harry had trouble relaxing. 

“What, so I’m the feminine one in this outfit?” Draco asked when Harry took his waist. “It’d be easier to lead if we did this the other way around. Besides, I’m taller.” 

“No need to gender everything, Draco. And we both know I’m stronger.” Gaining some confidence from this, Harry attempted to spin Draco out and in again, surprised to have the boy go with it so readily. Still, Draco’s cheeks were flushed as his waist returned to Harry’s hand. 

“You may actually be getting this,” he said. Draco continued to lead the dance, moving elegantly, gracefully. Their gaze met with the same intensity as ever, studying the fibers, colours and lines within the other’s irises; refusing to break eye contact before the other. As the song ended, however, Draco dropped his eyes away from Harry immediately and stepped back. 

“Let’s not do this again, then. Not right now at least,” said Harry as courteously as he could. Malfoy scoffed. 

“If we make it through this night without killing each other, we will never _speak_ of it again.” 

“Don’t be bitter. It hasn’t been that awful so far. Come on, let’s sit down. Have a drink or something. Blaise and Pansy are there,” Harry suggested, pointing back towards their table which was now against the side of the hall. He wondered where Blaise and Pansy’s dates were as they made their way over. “What’s the time?” 

“There’s a clock up there,” Draco snorted pointing up behind the large Christmas tree at the end of the hall. Harry looked. There was indeed a clock there which normally wasn’t. It appeared to be made of ice and showed the time to be half past nine. Two and a half hours to go. A good long while, then. 

 

“How are you two lovebirds doing?” Blaise asked as they approached. Harry ignored the pretence. 

“Alright, yeah. Fun dance,” He said as he took a seat while Malfoy gave Blaise an angry look. “Where are your dates?” 

“Turns out he was straight. Thought I asked him as friends. Idiot. Straight people, am I right, Draco?” 

“Ask the one ‘straight’ person, why don’t you?” Harry said with a laugh. Blaise and Pansy who had both been taking a gulp of butterbeer at that moment snorted into their drinks. 

“Draco? Straight?” cried Pansy through tears of laughter. 

“Are you serious, man?” Blaise hooted. “Is that what you’ve told him?” Next to Harry, Draco was redder than he’d ever seen him before.   
Getting through her laughter and wiping away a tear or two, Pansy continued. 

“How could you not see it? Draco is the gayest of the gays. He is King Queer!” 

“There’s something called common courtesy that suggests you shouldn’t out people like that,” Draco grumbled. 

“Well, we assumed Potter would at least _know_. I mean I know he isn’t the brightest, but I thought he might have _guessed_ ,” heaved Blaise. 

“I guessed!” said Harry indignantly. “I guessed he wasn’t straight. It’s just he told me he was so I figured I’d try this thing where I trust people.” 

“How noble. How very Gryffindor of you,” Malfoy said. 

“Thank you,” Harry replied, taking it as a compliment to avoid conflict. “Not very Gryffindor of you though, trying to make yourself out to be something you're not.” 

“I'll take that as a compliment. But seeing as we barely count as students anymore, I doubt that it really matters. And I was hardly pretending. I was simply keeping the ‘I'm above you in every way’ mentality. I told you I wasn't queer. I don't like the word queer. It's uncertain, and I am always certain about myself. I told you I don't like that word, Pansy. Not that it's offensive. It simply doesn't suit me.” 

“Sorry,” Pansy apologised, still grinning. “King Gay then.” 

“Better,” Draco affirmed. “Pass me a butterbeer, Blaise?” 

*

The great hall got a little wilder as time wore on. Harry and Draco remained on the sidelines for a good long while, talking to friends, and chatting with each other. Harry was having a surprisingly good time teasing Draco and attempting not to be bothered by what the other boy said when the lead singer of the music group stepped forward. 

“And now, one for all you sappy lovers out there,” she announced in a sultry voice before slow, calming music began. Harry remembered the rules Hermione had given them and it appeared Draco had too. 

“Come on then. Let's give this a go.” 

“Alright, King Gay,” said Harry and pulled Draco to the dancefloor while he rolled his eyes.   
“This is weird isn't it?” All around them, couples were holding each other close, heads resting on shoulders, arms all the way around one another. 

“Shut up, Harry. And dance with me,” said Draco, throwing an arm over Harry's shoulder and pulling him close. The shorter man looked at him in shock, his stomach lurch while he fought with his body not to tense up. 

“Did you just call me by my first name?” Draco blushed. 

“No.”

“Yes you did!” 

“Let's not mention it.” Harry grinned and raised his eyebrows while snaking one arm around Draco's waist and using the other to support his hand, rather enjoying the djstracting prickles of electricity between them. 

“Oh I will. You know I will. This is still weird though.” Swaying slowly on the spot, an abnormal distance apart, there was nothing not making it awkward. 

“At least it doesn't require too much talent from you. But yes. This is weird. I'm sure you'd rather not.” 

“Hey I said it was weird. Not terrible. Although I don't know if I can get in on this whole slow dancing thing. The swing dancing though- that was actually kind of fun,” Harry admitted. Looking at Draco, he noticed that he was staring right at him. He was still pink too.

“You look a mighty lot finer this Yule Ball than in fourth year. You looked like a bloody vicar,” Harry joked to break the silence that had fallen. Draco groaned at the memory, his eyes tightly shut. 

“Don't remind me of that. Those robes were abominable. I fancied myself somewhat of a lord back then,” he cringed. 

“Don't you still?” Harry teased. Draco blinked. 

“I… I wouldn't say so. It's a bit hard to feel like a lord when most people resent you and you find it difficult being serious with people about anything.” 

“When it comes down to it, you're alright at getting to the serious things with me,” Harry told him, speaking more softly. Draco screwed up his face in bewilderment. 

“Why am I telling you this? I don't even like you!” 

“Don't lie,” Harry joked. 

“Fine.” He was taken aback. Had Draco just implied that he at the very least didn't mind him? His stomach trembled. 

When the song ended, Draco stepped back as suddenly as before. 

Philippe appeared then, at Harry’s elbow. 

“Hello, Harry Potter,” he said, grinning charmingly as ever. “You’re looking dashing on the night of your challenge.” Harry thanked him.   
“Care to dance?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, his grin becoming more lopsided. Harry glanced at Draco who was standing next to him a little awkwardly. 

“Oh uh…” Harry did like Philippe, but he felt no real desire to dance with the boy, although he was sure it would end up being romantic and wonderful. Perhaps it was nerves, or fear of humiliation, but something inside him was telling him not to. “I’m alright, actually. Not that I don’t want to. It’s just… I can’t go more than a few meters from this one,” he said, gesturing at Draco. Philippe glanced at the slim boy beside Harry. 

“Alright then. No issues. I’ll catch you another time, yeah? Have fun,” he said, winking at Harry and turning on his heel. 

“You could have danced with him you know,” said Draco in a soft voice behind Harry. A shiver went down his spine as he turned. 

“I wouldn’t want you to get jealous, darling,” Harry jested, making the blonde redden again. They were closer than Harry had noticed, and Draco made an effort to break the awkward silence as they stared at one another. 

“Let's… walk.”

*

The front surroundings of the Great Hall had been magically insulated with live fairies fluttering, lighting up the rose bushes which were dotted around the place. To say it was a romantic setting would have been an understatement. 

“Go on, say it again,” Harry prodded, nudging Draco with his elbow as they walked through the gardens. 

“Ha… Har… I can’t do it!” the blonde whined. 

“You already have. It’s not that hard, is it? It’s just a name.” 

“But it feels unnatural! I haven’t said it in _years_!”

“Quit your moaning.” Draco sighed mournfully as if this was the biggest challenge of his life. 

“Harr… ry. Har-ry. Harry.” He turned his head to look at Harry. “Harry. You’re Harry.” 

“Well done,” the dark haired boy scoffed. “SO you’ve finally learnt my name.” 

“Oh shut up.” When their eyes met, Harry felt a tremor go up his spine. Draco allowed his eyes to travel a little, darting away from the eye contact. Harry recognised this movement. 

“What’s on your mind?” Draco remained silent, but looked skeptical, as if he wasn’t sure how Harry had known. “Come on, let’s hear it.” 

“This whole year, you never thought I was evil. You didn’t resent me for my past, except for stupid little things we did to bother each other. You backed me up about the whole thing. Yes, I know. And I think you’re the only one who would have done that.” Harry felt like his whole body was burning. Waiting for him to move. Waiting for him to do something. “Of course you did,” Malfoy continued, sarcastically. “Of course _you_ were the noble, trusting one. Aren’t you always? Fucking hell why am I even telling you this?” Harry tried to laugh off the shock that was still coursing through him. 

“I try.” Then, softer: “You’re better than you think, you know.” Draco was quick to come back with a grin. 

“Of course I am. I’m amazing. What did you compare me to again? A siren?” 

“You’re never gonna let that go are you?” Harry groaned. 

“Well, I have to say it rather boosts my self-esteem for someone to find me so alluring,” the blonde teased. 

“If you talk like that I hardly think you need it,” Harry said, looking away from Draco’s intense smirk, burning all over.

Then the world blurred around him for a second as he felt a hand turn him and a tall, slender body was against his own and a hand was around his neck, and lips were against his, and he was frozen in time.   
It was only a moment, but when Draco pulled away, Harry couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. He just stood there staring and blinking. They both did this, looking at each other for a few seconds while Draco's expression turned into one of fear and bewilderment and he stumbled backwards in a very un-Malfoy like manner.

“Oh, fuck!” Draco yelled, putting a hand to his forehead before turning and running off in the direction of the school, leaving Harry still standing, not knowing how to react, not knowing what to think, alone in the rose garden on Christmas night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave any thought and/or comments below! I always like to hear people's opinions about and reactions to the story!!
> 
> ***
> 
> There is SO much going on with Draco and other characters that we don't know about. It's so hard t write about because Harry's POV is so limiting! He doesn't notice much, and he's a lot less skeptical of people than he used to be. He is so oblivious to everything including himself. 
> 
> Also I'm surprised so many people have stuck with the story and read all the chapters! I know the start is a bit slow, but thank you to all my readers! I love that people have taken the time to read this, and to my commenters, you never fail to make my day!


	11. The Name of the Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is confused

_And you make me talk_   
_And you make me feel_   
_And you make me show_   
_What I'm trying to conceal_

Harry stood rooted to the spot, blinking. Malfoy had already disappeared by the time he came to his senses and finally managed to move. He allowed his arms to shakily move to his side. His neck felt stiff as he turned it towards the castle entrance. Harry tried to wrap his head around what had just happened. 

Unless he was very much mistaken, Malfoy- Draco Malfoy- had just… kissed him? Could that be right? And then he’d sworn and run off. Harry had lost his train of thought. He started again. Draco Malfoy had kissed him. Draco Malfoy had _kissed_ him. As in… mouth against mouth. As in what people do when they’re into each other. Into each other as in romantically or sexually. But Draco wasn’t… _couldn’t_ be into Harry. Draco Malfoy had _kissed_ him. Draco Malfoy, former bully, snob, death-eater, enemy of Harry, had kissed _him_.

Harry raised a hand to his lips and brushed over the skin which had had Draco’s lips against it just over a minute ago. It was so surreal, and yet all Harry was feeling was shock at this point. No disgust, no dislike, just surprise, and oncoming confusion. He needed to sort through things. The party in the great hall was still going strong while he walked into the entrance hall and began climbing the stairs, not quite sure where he was going. 

He ended up in a room he did not immediately recognise, but once he shut the door behind him, the memory of that room came flooding back to Harry. This was where the mirror of Erised had stood in his first year. Where he’d seen his family for the first time. Where Dumbledore had first given him truly meaningful advice. Where he’d first taken his father’s invisibility cloak. 

It was strange to be back. The mirror was clearly not there any longer, and Harry found it ironic, that the mirror of Erised had had its home in this room once, yet he had absolutely no idea what he wanted. 

Nonetheless, Harry sat on the floor in front of where the mirror had once been, trying to sort through his thoughts, but the memory of Draco’s hand on his neck, and their lips against each other was till too close. Agitated, and tossing, Harry fell asleep right there in that deserted room, his head full of Draco and distress. 

*

In the week leading up to New Year’s eve, Harry didn’t talk to his friends much. It was only Boxing Day when Ron confronted him. 

“Hey, where’d you go last night, mate?” he yawned when Harry stumbled into the dormitory, still in his dress robes. “You never came back. What happened?” Ron’s red hair was sticking up in a truly horrendous case of bed-head as he lay in his four-poster. 

Harry began removing his dress robes and pulling sweatpants and his trusty grey t-shirt out of his wardrobe. 

“Nothing happened. I fell asleep in the castle.” Ron raised his eyebrows. 

“You just fell asleep in the castle. Okay. Sure you did.” 

“I did! I wouldn’t bother lying about this,” Harry insisted. 

“Wait, so what happened with the bet? Did you two make it? Or did one of you actually end up starting a fight or leaving?” he asked, rolling onto his stomach to face Harry. 

Harry’s mouth went very dry as he slipped his t-shirt over his bare torso. He hadn’t even thought about the bet at all. Now that Ron had mentioned it, it definitely hadn’t been twelve at the time...

“Actually… I guess I won. He um… went to far away.” Ron looked slightly shocked and slightly euphoric. “But it wasn’t a big deal or anything,” Harry rushed to say. “I mean he left, but it doesn’t matter. I wouldn't even count it as a win.” 

“My main man! I am truly impressed. I thought he’d get the better of you.” Harry wasn’t in the mood for praise for what had happened the previous night. 

“No kidding. He always knows what to say,” he said. 

“Well, thanks for helping me win a bet. I better get up and tell Hermione,” Ron replied enthusiastically, pushing himself out of bed and quickly changing into casual clothes before leaving Harry alone again.

Harry didn’t want to tell Ron what had happened. Nor did he want to tell Hermione. Ron would probably be somewhat disgusted, or just as confused, and Hermione would be a page ahead of him the whole time, trying to tell him what he felt, or what to do. Harry wasn’t prepared for that. He needed someone who was not judgemental who wouldn’t interrupt, and who would just listen while Harry tried to talk through his feelings or sit in silence and distract him with other things. Two of his close friends surfaced in his mind: Rubeus Hagrid and Luna Lovegood. 

It didn’t feel like the right time to go and disturb Luna who had been out at the ball until late dancing and talking with Neville, who she’d gone with, and her other friends. Still unable to think about anything except Malfoy and that kiss and how utterly confused he was, Harry grabbed his thickest hoodie and left the dorm to go and visit Hagrid, who was sure to be up and about by now feeding the Beauxbatons horses. 

*

It was snowing hard when Harry arrived at Hagrid’s hut, knocking on the wooden door. 

“Harry!” Hagrid exclaimed, as he flung the door open. “What are you doing out here? It’s freezing! Come on, get inside.” Harry was numb all over as he stepped into the blazing warmth of Hagrid’s hut. A fire was going and Fang was spread out in front of the hearth.   
“Come on, sit down. I’ll make ye some tea.” 

“Thanks, Hagrid,” said Harry, slouching into a chair at the wooden table. 

When Hagrid came back with two bucket-sized mugs and a large teapot, he took a seat across from Harry. 

“Alright Harry? Didn’t expect to see you today. Thought you’d still be sleepin’ off last night’s par’y. You were at the Yule Ball, weren’t ye?” Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“Yeah, I was there. I didn’t stay that late though. You were there, weren’t you?” he asked. 

“I was. Just fer the dinner, though. Not much fer dancin’, me. Now Harry.” Hagrid poured them both a mug of tea. “I can see something’s botherin’ ye, I’m not pressurin’ ye into tellin’ me, mind, but if ya do want te…” Harry did want to tell Hagrid. He felt he might explode if he didn’t tell at least someone because what had happened was too unexpected… too bizarre to be kept. 

“You know I was at the ball with Draco. Draco Malfoy,” he began. 

“I was wonderin’ what that was all about. Seemed a bit odd.” 

“It was. Hermione and Pansy Parkinson didn’t believe we could spend an evening together so they challenged us to it.” He took a gulp of tea. It was too hot and burned his tongue, but Harry didn’t much care. 

“Hermione… that girl’s more wicked than most people know, isn’t she? So? Did ye manage? You two never been too good at gettin’ along.” Hagrid’s inputs, though not yet understanding the situation, encouraged Harry. 

“No, actually. He ended up leaving. But it was good until then actually. It was nice, actually.” He looked up at Hagrid’s concerned, yet ever twinkling eyes that seemed to ask what had happened.   
“He kissed me.” The words were out of Harry’s mouth before he had worked out how to form them. Harid just took another gulp of tea. “You… you’re not going to say anything?” 

“It’s not my place, Harry. How are ye feelin’ abou’ it?” That was all Harry needed to hear. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know why he did it, I mean we used to hate each other. And we don’t now, but no one can bother me as much as he does, even so. And he ran away afterwards. So if he didn’t fancy me, I guess it wouldn’t matter, but I don't know what he meant.” 

“Easy there, Harry,” said hagrid holding a hand up in a defensive gesture. “If you’re worryin’ about what he’s thinkin’, then ye should go ask him.” Harry sighed. Hagrid was right, and had instilled a certain confidence within him. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I will.” With that settled, Harry relaxed the conversation switched. 

“So tell me, Harry. You’re the one passin’ information to the champions on the Second Task? Anyone approached ye yet?” 

*

The next few days were uncomfortable. Harry had intended on asking Draco about that night (more specifically, that moment) at the Yule Ball, but when Draco seemed to be purposefully avoiding him. When Harry did see him from time to time, the most between them was brief but very tense eye contact before Draco seemed to find some excuse of having to be somewhere else. No matter where Harry went, what he did, he always seemed to be just out of reach. 

Mealtimes were becoming awkward as well. Harry was purposely trying to get to meals after Draco, but it never seemed to work, and Draco would always purposely sit away from Harry- as far down the table as possible. It was while Harry was leaving the great hall later in the holidays that he was approached by Ginny. 

She whispered up at him, trying to be surreptitious. 

“Marked head, I need to question you,” she said before pulling him down a side passage, around a few corners and into an empty room. The room was small and musty, much like a disused broom cupboard. Harry’s stomach twisted in discomfort when he realised what Ginny knew. 

“So? How did you figure it out?” he asked, looking down into the pale, freckled face he knew so well. 

“I took a midnight fly around the castle. Cleared my head. I took the clue out with me just to get a new perspective on things. And what do you know? I was right to do so.” 

“Are you going to tell Teo?” 

“I don’t know… no, I don’t think so. I mean, it’s still a competition, and we said we wouldn’t let the two things slide together, you know? Okay, so… shoot. Tell me about the second task.” Harry raised an eyebrow at her. 

“I can’t tell you everything. You know that, right?” It was slightly painful for Harry, knowing what he tak was going to be, yet having to stop himself from spilling everything when asked. GInny nodded adamantly.   
“Okay, well, in earnest, there isn’t much you can do to prepare. I can tell you though, that it involves some kind of race. The competition will be fierce, and…” Harry didn’t want to say it, but he had to. He’d promised McGOnagall. He didn’t have much of a choice. “And you can’t trust anyone you’re with.” 

“So there’s nothing I have to figure out? Nothing at all? That’s pretty lame,” Ginny aid a little huffily, folding her arms. 

“Hate to disappoint, but yeah. That’s it.” Harry’s eyes left hers. He hated lying. Not being able to tell her the whole task, and he wondered why McGonagall had told him everything if he wasn’t even allowed to reveal it all. 

“Well, thanks anyways. At least now I can relax before the others do.” She stared up into Harry’s face, her intuitive dark eyes searching. “Are you alright, Harry? You’ve seemed kind of own over the past few days. Since the Yule Ball?” Harry swallowed hard. 

“What? Um… I guess so. Just holiday blues, you know.” Ginny scoffed and tightened her folded arms. 

“Holiday blues are bullshit and we all know it. Did something happen there? Ron told me you won the challenge. I thought you’d be happy,” she said, her eyes questioning. He shrugged in response. 

“I would have thought so too, but no. No such luck.” 

“You’re being stupid. Stop dancing around the question. Sit down and tell me what’s up. We’re not leaving ‘til you do,” said Ginny and she grabbed his wrist, pulling him to the ground so that they were sitting cross-legged across from one another. There was no escaping Ginny’s obstinance when she set her mind to something. There was no distracting her. There was no point in beating around the bush. 

“Someone… may or may not have kissed me and I don’t know why they did it and now they won’t talk to me and I just need to know why they did it and what they’re thinking and feeling,” he blurted all at once, being cautious not to reveal a name or gender, although looking at Ginny, he thought she probably had a guess. 

“And I suppose we’re not going to mention this person’s name. Let’s call them… You Know Who.” Harry laughed at this feeble joke. “Okay, so You Know Who kissed you.” Ginny was trying hard not to laugh as well now. “And you want to know why, and how You Know Who feels. Right?” 

“Something like that,” Harry snickered. 

“Well, it seems to me like you’re focussing on all the wrong things. Stop thinking about what You Know Who wants so much. First you should try and figure out what _you’re_ feeling. You been avoiding that, haven’t ou?” Ginny gave a knowing smile and cocked her head to one side. Harry was taken aback and blinked a few times. 

“Merlin, ginny. You’re good!” 

“I know. Now talk through it. Just spill. Any- and everything out on the mat.” Ginn was so understanding. So helpful. “Although I would like to know You Know Who’s name at some point. And don’t say Tom Riddle.” Harry rolled his eyes. Although, thinking back on it, young Tom Riddle had been pretty attractive. He laughed at the thought. Imagine if he’d allowed himself to become infatuated with Tom Riddle. “Harry Potter accidentally falls for his nemesis!” how ironic would that be?

“Okay, I’m not going to tell you who it is. But I haven’t even begun to think… Maybe I was scared to think about how I felt?” 

“Of course you were scared. Did you like it? The kiss?” 

“I was surprised, mostly. But I didn’t not like it. It wasn’t disgusting or unpleasant or anything. I just had no idea it was coming, so I guess that was kind of weird. I mean we’ve sort of been messing with each other all year. Not flirting or anything. Just trying to get the other to admit… oh shit,” said Harry as a wave of realisation flooded him. A vivid image of Malfoy swam on the surface of his thoughts. 

Harry remembered feeling annoyed because he always looked so perfect. He remembered himself wanting Draco to say that he was attracted to him, but not quite sure why. He remembered constantly teasing him. He remembered a pang of jealousy at thinking that Blaise and Draco could have once had a thing. He remembered his Impression of Draco which was too gorgeous not to mean anything and Professor Maillen had known it. And if he looked back, Harry knew it wasn’t just this year. It didn’t mean anything,   
This whole time, Ginny stayed silent until he looked up. 

“Something’s dawned on you. You figured it out. Want to talk about it?” 

“I think I fancy them. I mean, I think I’m attracted to them,” Harry said, still in shock. Ginny grinned at him and pushed herself off the ground before pulling Harry up with her. 

“So you fancy this pointy blonde git we won’t be naming?” Harry felt himself go scarlet as his eyes grew wide. “Real shocker there. Now you’re in some kind of place to approach him. Thanks for the talk, Harry,” she said before pushing the door of the broom cupboard open and leaving. 

“Hold on,” Harry shouted, rushing to catch up with her. “How did you guess? You won’t tell anyone, will you?” Ginny rolled her eyes but patted Harry on the shoulder. 

“Just a hunch, dear. And no, I won’t say word.” 

*

It wasn’t a big deal, Harry told himself. He was attracted to a lot of people. Okay, not lot of people, but not just one, that was for sure. He didn’t know why he’ never considered being attracted to Malfoy an option. He knew things between them had always been intense in some shape or form, but labelling it felt… weird. Not a great choice of word, but it was the best he could do at that point. 

It was new year’s eve and Harry was wandering the school that night, instead of spending time in the common room where a party was being held. He decided to revisit the room which had once held the mirror of Erised again, just for old time’s sake. 

On the way to the room, Harry stumble by a classroom with its door ajar where he spotted a wisp of silver smoke. He stopped and pushed the door slightly further open to reveal its interior. 

It wasn’t one of Harry’s classrooms, but it was one he’d been in once. A brief thought flashed through his mind asking why Hogwarts had so many classrooms and students with so few teachers. He’ never considered it before, but that thought was out of his mind when the wisp of silver smoke reappeared. It illuminated a head of silvery blonde hair and a black suit sitting cross legged on a table facing away from the door. 

Harry’s breathing hitched as he recognised Draco. He pushed the door open more so he’d have room to walk in comfortably. Draco was obviously very engaged in the task at hand, as he didn’t notice Harry’s approach, silent as it was. The wisps of Patronus exuding from Draco’s wand seemed to entrance him

Harry walked forwards until he was right behind Draco's left shoulder, next to the desk he was sitting on. He watched the swirling silver wisps for a minute or two as Draco steered his wand through the air aimlessly, creating little patterns. 

“Not a bad start,” Harry took the chance to say. Draco yelped and jumped as he acknowledged Harry’s presence. 

“What do you want, Potter?” he spat, struggling to regain his dignity, not meeting Harry’s eyes. Harry felt his skin prickling. He couldn’t help himself. 

“And here I thought we were doing so well with the whole first name thing.” 

“Well you must have thought wrong. You winning that challenge changes nothing.” Draco went pink. 

“Oh. Well then. I was thinking the cause of my winning that challenge might have been the cause of you succeeding in this admirable attempt at a Patronus.” Harry couldn’t stop himself from saying it, but he wished he had been able to. Draco tried to scoff. 

“Once again, you think highly of yourself,” he snapped and made to leave, but Harry was ready for it this time. He grabbed Draco’s wrist before he could get more than two paces.

“Get off me, you bastard!” he yelled, trying to yank his arm out of Harry’s grasp, but he was held fast, only succeeding in pulling Harry closer to him. Draco’s breath caught in his throat. 

“I wanted to ask you something,” said Harry softly. 

“Well then maybe you should ask it and not waste my time,” hissed Draco. 

“I wanted to ask why. At the Yule Ball… why?” He couldn’t bring himself to say it to Draco’s face. The blonde fixed him with a look that was so full of pain and hatred that he loosened his grip on his wrist. 

“Why do you think?” Draco yanked his wrist out of Harry’s grasp and stepped back. “Why do you think I ran away? Why would I do that? It’s not hard to figure out, Potter. Even for you, I hope, despite the fact that you can never notice anything that isn’t explicitly said to you.” Draco’s teeth were gritted as he spoke, but behind his words were deep feelings. Harry could hear them threatening to spill through his teeth.   
“Why would I kiss you? Why was I afraid? If that’s not enough of an answer, then I don’t know what to tell you.” 

“You haven’t once spoken to me,” said Harry in a voice barely more than a whisper. 

“There’s a reason for that, idiot. It’s kind of hard to speak to someone after doing something you regret so much.” And then he was gone. And in the distance, there was a shouting and out the window, there were fireworks. The new year had begun.

*

“Why would someone regret doing something?” Harry asked Hermione while they were working in Charms, twirling his quill. THe holidays were over and it felt good to be back in some kind of routine. 

“Because they didn’t realise it was a bad decision at the time?” she suggested while taking notes, not looking up. “Why?” 

“No reason,” Harry assured her before looking back at his textbook, trying and failing to absorb any information.   
SO maybe Draco thought kissing Harry was a bad decision? Why would that be? Either because Draco didn’t actually want to kiss Harry, or because Harry might have reacted in a way Draco didn’t want. It was more complicated than it was worth. Draco thought he’d been straightforward, but Harry was still confused. 

However, he was pleased that Ginny had gotten him to focus on how he felt about that night first. It was helpful, at least partially knowing what he wanted. 

“Is it okay to only just realise you’re sort of attracted to someone you’ve known for a long time?” Harry vocalized. Hermione set down her quill and stared at him. 

“What are you getting at, Harry?” 

“Nothing,” he claimed. Hermione looked skeptical, but didn’t push it. Not during class. Harry shouldn’t have allowed himself to say such things, but it was too late. He wouldn’t be able to throw Hermione off him afterwards, but that was a matter for later. 

Harry allowed his mind to drift and remembered his date with Philippe. It had been fun, and Philippe was wonderful. He wondered how much longer it would take Philippe to figure out the clue, or if he’d just remain stressed up until the Second Task. Not that it mattered. Harry didn’t have much to tell except to harm the contestants’ chances even more.   
One blessing Harry had though was that Rita Skeeter still hadn’t posted anything nasty. Surely it was too late. Perhaps she wouldn’t at all. That would be pleasant, after all, but it was Rita Skeeter. That would be wishful thinking. It was only a matter of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks for reading!  
> Please leave any comments/questions/suggestions down below! I always love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> ***
> 
> Sorry about this chapter. It feels a bit like drabble, but parts of it were necessary. Hoping to pick things up again next time!


	12. All These Things I Hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco get back on speaking terms through impressions, but how will Draco react to Harry being publicly outed?

_Once more you tell those lies to me_   
_Why can't you just be straight up with honesty?_   
_When you say those things in my ear_   
_Why do you always tell me what you wanna hear?_

“Alright, class, I lied. Turns out Transfiguration is being used to cover Creative Magic this year. It’s seen as a somewhat creative class anyway, but I do actually have to teach you Impressions. So forgive me if I make most of this topic homework, but I think you can all handle it,” Professor Maillen lectured the eighth year Transfiguration class. “That is why, as I promised, we will today be returning to learning to form impressions.” 

A few of the students groaned. Some looked excited, but Harry and Draco both tensed. Harry glanced over at the blonde who did not move or look back at him.   
They had been working on transfiguring books into other books, which was a very difficult task, due to all the words and information they had to transfigure, so although nervous, Harry was relieved. 

“I apologise, I’m a bit scatterbrained today, but I will allow you to choose your pairs this class, so that perhaps we can get some better results than last time. Go on, I see those looks, get in your pairs,” said Maillen gesturing between the students.   
Harry stood and watched the pairs form. Ron and Hermione, Terry Boot and Michael Corner. Draco moved towards Pansy at the same time as she moved towards Padma Patil. The two dark haired girls locked eyes and nodded, leaving Draco at a loss. 

Harry took a deep breath. Maybe this would work in his favour and get Malfoy to talk to him again. They didn’t move towards each other. 

“Alright then, Malfoy and Potter, you’re a pair,” said the Professor with a small smile, and he turned, summoning the easels and slates from his room.   
Once the students were sat across from one another on the cold stone floor, another set of slates came flying in from the back room and were hung on the wall, to cries of protest. 

“No, come on, Professor,” groaned Ron, head in his hands with embarrassment at his last attempt of an Impression. 

“I decided to keep these, knowing we would be coming back to Impressions later in the year. This way we can see if you have improved. By choosing partners this time, I am hoping there will be improvements. You all remember the spell? Fairth Imprus. I will be walking around and advising you this time. It’s not just for fun anymore, remember that, but try to have fun with it anyway.” 

Harry turned his eyes to fix on Draco’s grey ones. They made eye contact and Harry gulped. 

“You should be pretty good by now with all the practicing you’ve been doing,” he said in what he hoped was an encouraging tone. 

“Pretty good? My first impression was ‘pretty good.’ I can make an impression on my own skin if I want. ‘Pretty good.’ Trust me, I am,” Draco drawled in return, his eyes blazing. Harry beamed. This was the Draco he was used to. He watched as the silver eyes flickered away from his.   
“Wipe that stupid grin off your face and try do something,” he muttered before raising his eyes back to Harry’s face. 

 

Harry sat and did exactly what he had last time: stared intently at Draco, letting his eyes wander over the planes of that pale face. Malfoy, though, was working faster. He still looked very hard at Harry, his eyes intense, his lips slightly parted, but his wand positively swept over the slate, and every minute or so, he would look down at it, glare, then swipe his wand from right to left over the surface and begin again.   
Harry was puzzled, but not yet finished with his own work, so he distracted himself by focusing on the way Draco’s hair fell slightly into his face as he was concentrating on him. 

Professor Maillen walked up behind Draco about twenty minutes into the lesson, and neither boy noticed. He stood for a minute or two before sitting down on the floor beside them. 

“Let me pause you here for a moment, Mister Malfoy.” Draco looked away from Harry, blinking, causing Harry to look over at their teacher as well.   
“How many new Impressions have you made and then wiped so far this class?” Draco went very pink but didn’t lose his confident demeanour. 

“Eighteen. Why?” Harry blushed too. In less than half a class, Draco Malfoy had created eighteen images of him, lead by nothing more than his feelings. 

“You’ve been practicing?” Maillen asked. Draco shrugged, then nodded. “A similar… subject matter perhaps?” Draco’s face went even more red and he didn’t answer, but Maillen took it as a yes. “I see. Both the works I’ve seen you create so far have been some of the most exquisite I’ve seen. You have a true talent. Or maybe,” said Maillen with a wink and a glance at Harry, “just a true passion.”   
Draco looked away, his face redder than Harry had ever seen it. He wasn’t quite sure what it meant, but it _must_ mean that Draco at least felt something about him. Something positive. 

“And you, Mister Potter,” Maillen continued, scooting around to look at Harry’s Impression. “Some fantastic progress here.” Harry looked down at his own slate to see what he’d done so far. He didn’t like to stop before being finished.   
It was Malfoy, alright. Malfoy’s face. His hair a little disheveled, his lips parted, his eyes wide and full of feeling. Hurt? No, but something. In the silver of his eyes, stars were shining. There was no background yet, and no movement. Not until the work was complete. 

“There is something unique about this piece, Harry,” Maillen told him. “When it is done, it will be unique, I promise you. There’s something here that is different since last time. Something you perhaps did not know then. This piece will be magical. Finish it.” Harry just looked at him when he got up and walked towards Padma and Pansy who were giggling over their works. 

“Eighteen Impressions of me, huh?” Harry said, turning back to Draco, one eyebrow raised to disguise his own embarrassment. 

“Fuck off, Potter. I’ve had practice, remember?” 

 

A bit further into the lesson, Harry was just finishing when Professor Maillen called out: “If a pair is finished, then please share your works with one another and discuss improvement from last time and any relation you two Impressions may have.” 

Harry and Draco locked eyes, and the flicker of fear running between them was hidden quickly. Harry’s stomach clenched as he tore his gaze away and looked at his slate. Galaxies were turning in the eyes he’s given Malfoy. Slate-Draco blinked, closed his mouth swallowed, and opened it again. Wind ruffled his hair. Behind him was a dark grass. He was lying down. Under the moonlight perhaps? Slate-Draco’s storm-blue button-up wasn’t done up at the collar. He appeared to catch his breath when he inhaled. But Harry’s eyes always came back to rest in those eyes- eyes which held entire galaxies in their intensity. 

Looking back at the real Draco, Harry caught distress in his face. 

“Made something pretty for your fiftieth try?” Harry teased. 

“It’s my twenty-seventh, and don’t pretend you have no shame in sharing _your_ piece,” the former-Slytherin responded, fixing him with a glare as he took his slate off the easel. 

“Only twenty-seven? Oh yeah that's so few.” Harry followed suit and pushed their easels to the side. 

Neither breathed when they revealed their slates to one another, laying them on the ground. They looked at one another and then away again. 

Malfoy’s slate was so similar to Harry’s- shirt not done up all the way, eyes wide and shining, but Harry’s looked like they contained an ocean, rather than stars. The same lighting shone on slate-Harry, but from the back, leaving his face mostly in shadows with a halo of light around his dark hair. There was the same look in his eyes- one of something Harry couldn't place, and behind slate-Harry was the night sky. 

“Well this is… weird,” Harry said, not very helpfully. 

“Can I just… is it too similar to be a coincidence?” Draco’s voice was but a whisper. 

“It’s like... two consecutive frames of a movie.”   
Draco looked at him, the soft nervousness gone from his voice. 

“What the fuck is a movie?” 

“Never mind,” Harry chuckled. “And um… maybe it isn’t a coincidence? I mean, if you’re seeing the same scene I am.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re positively vulgar.” 

“Right, and that’s why you think I’m vulgar. No idea at all,” Harry said with great sarcasm. Draco was talking to him. This was perfect. “Draco?” 

“Harry?” the blonde replied, eyebrow raised. Harry did a double-take.

“You… you called me Harry.” 

“How very observant of you. What is it?” 

“We should… do something. Together,” Harry blurted. Draco seemed to sit up a little straighter at this. “You know, so we can legitimately _try_ to be friends?” His posture slackened again. 

“Fancy that: Harry Potter nobly reaching out to his past rival,” Draco drawled rolling his eyes. This frustrated Harry. 

“Oh stop it, won’t you? I’m not doing this to be noble. I’m doing it because I… because I want to spend time with you, alright?” Harry felt himself redden. Draco’s interest was caught again. 

“In that case, what did you have in mind?” 

“Tomorrow after dinner meet in the entrance hall?” Draco looked skeptical. “Come on, it’s a Friday. We’re Eighth years. We can do what we want,” Harry persuaded. 

“Alright then.” He couldn’t help the grin that split over his face. Harry was sure now- Draco _must_ like him. At least a little bit. It was very possible that he had just been confused when he kissed Harry, but if that wasn’t the case, Harry was okay with that too. Draco actually liking him to some extent was the only explanation for all this, and he liked that.

Leaving the classroom that day, Harry was sure there wasn’t much that could break his good mood. 

*

Rita Skeeter had chosen that particular Friday morning to release that dreadful article. Harry’s knowledge of this article came from Hermione’s disgust at unrolling the Daily Prophet when the mail arrived during breakfast. 

“That Skeeter cow!” she hissed. Hearing this was all Harry needed to snatch the paper from Hermione only to find two pictures of him and Philippe together in Hogsmeade.   
As promised, the title read: Harry Potter: the Queer Who Lived. 

The article was not delicate about the matter, saying how it was unusual for someone so large in the wizarding world be so open about their sexuality so as not to address it formally first, and how it was a shame for all the hopeful young witches out there. Who the fuck did Rita Skeeter think she was? Not that Harry expected better.   
The article went on to say how Harry Potter appeared to be seeing Triwizard Champion of Beauxbatons, as they were seen together in Hogsmeade. 

“This is fucking ridiculous,” he groaned, throwing the Prophet back at Hermione. “Why didn’t you threaten her a little more, Hermione? Could have been useful now.” 

“She’s _awful_ ,” Hermione added. “This is such an invasion of privacy! And besides, it’s not even true!” 

“What do you mean it’s not true?” Ron asked. “Harry’s about as straight as a quaffle thrown by Neville.” Hermione gave him a disapproving look. 

“No it’s not that. It’s just… Harry, you should have been more careful. You shouldn’t have gone out with Philippe. You knew there’s be reporters in Hogsmeade.”   
Harry was offended. 

“Oh so now you’re blaming me? I just wanted to go on a normal date for once, like every other teenager. Is that too much to ask? And yes, I knew. But it’s pretty hard to say no. I mean have you _met_ Philippe?” he ranted. 

“I’m not blaming you, Harry. I just don’t think he’s right for you. And I know it isn’t your fault that the media can’t keep their eye off you, even now you don’t have any destiny awaiting you, and that’s dreadful. But you do know it’s the case. I know you didn’t ask to be a role model, but when you are one, you do have to take extra care of your actions, unless you don’t mind the world knowing.” She did look concerned, but Harry wasn’t in the mood for it. 

“I don’t mind that I was outed. That isn’t the problem. I just don’t want the world to think I’m dating some bloke I’m not interested in seeing seriously. It would be a bit too much pressure to date someone as perfect as Philippe.” 

“All I heard was ‘perfect’ and ‘Philippe’,” came a low, rumbling voice from behind Harry, and sure enough, Philippe took a seat next to him within seconds. “I’m guessing you’ve seen the article?” 

“I hate everything,” Harry moaned, laying his forehead against the table. 

“Come on, could be worse, couldn’t it, Harry Potter?” Philippe said nudging Harry’s side. 

“You honestly think this isn't that bad?” Harry asked, raising his head. 

“Nah, it's alright. Just the press messing things up, right? No such thing as bad publicity and all that? It's not like you're in the closet to the people you know.” 

“Well that's alright. I mean it's never been a secret. Not really. But u do you have any idea what kind of mail I'm going to get tomorrow?” 

“I'm sorry about that. We'll both be getting some, but you more for sure. And I'm sorry she assumed that we're together. It's a little awkward isn't it?” Philippe said with a chuckle. Harry nodded in agreement.   
“We should see each other again. Clear things up, have fun together. That's not why I was going to come over here, though.” Philippe leaned in close, speaking in a low voice so others couldn't hear. 

“Oh?” Harry's eyebrows were raised in curiosity. 

“I wanted to know about the second task. Question the marked head, as it were.”   
Harry's breath caught in his throat. Lying to Ginny was one thing- the two of them were always fibbing at one another, and a lie wasn't too far off that. When it came to it, Teo would be okay because she took things as they came. Philippe though was so honest and perfect and lovely. Lying to Philippe felt… wrong.

It was a bit unfair of McGonagall giving the Champions a false clue that would only lead them astray if they did figure it out. 

“Right. The uh… you figured out the clue. Okay so… there isn't much to tell. But you're going to have to uh…” Harry's mouth was dry. This felt so wrong. Philippe nodded encouragingly at him.   
“I'm sorry.” 

“It's alright. You can tell me.” Philippe stretched a dark hand over Harry's own and squeezed it. He twitched his hand, not knowing if he should draw it away or not. He didn't despite his discomfort in that moment. 

“The… the competition is going to be rough. Quite. Very. And you shouldn't trust anyone. You can't trust anyone. And there's some kind of race. But that's all I can tell you.” It was lucky Harry was a good liar. He was uncomfortable as anything, but Philippe believed him. He was trusting as well. Damn him. 

“That's all?” Harry nodded. “Well then, if that's it… thank you.” Philippe raised his hand and ran a thumb along Harry's cheekbone. The hair on the back of Harry's neck stood up as he heard the sound of wooden chair legs scraping against the stone floor.   
Harry drew back from Philippe’s touch to turn towards the sound only to see Draco's silver eyes blazing at him for a split-second before he whipped around and left the great hall. 

“Draco,” he called too late, standing.

“I asked if there was something between you two. You should have said.”   
Harry looked into Philippe’s dark eyes as he sat back down.

“There is nothing going on. But I just don't-”

“You like him. That's okay. If you're sure that is,” said Philippe with a shrug.

“I think I do. Not like that, maybe. I'm not sure. But I… look I don't want to hurt your feelings or anything, and you know I think you're perfect in just about every- oh who am I kidding? Perfect in _every_ way, but I'm not sure about you either?”   
Philippe scanned Harry's face, making him feel vulnerable. Harry liked Philippe, and although awestruck by his looks and mannerisms, he couldn't be emotionally swayed much by him. He was rarely swayed emotionally by anyone he didn't love a whole lot. And Malfoy but that was because the bloke just got to him in whatever way that may be.

“Let me try to make you sure, then. Let me take you out again?” Philippe was smiling at him, eyes wide and promising. Harry couldn't help but trust him. He wanted to be sure about Philippe but couldn't find it in himself to be so. Something about the whole thing was bothering him yet he couldn't place it. Even so, Harry allowed himself to nod.

*

The letters arrived the following morning and they just kept coming for the next week and a half in decreasing numbers each day. Harry had read a few of them and was pleased to find that many of them were supportive, though of course there was hate mail from several as well. 

“It's no one's business really,” said Ginny when she saw Harry casting a burning spell on a new letter he wasn't bothering to read. “I don't know why they bother. Some are the same witches and wizards over and over.” 

Ginny was in the same boat as Harry, though less of a target. She'd been outed in a small article in Witch Weekly announcing that two of the Triwizard Champions were dating one another. It was a kinder article than Harry's had been, but at least she could grasp how he felt to some extent. 

“Teo and I hadn't had a single problem before this.” 

The two friends were in the library with a group consisting of them, Neville, Dean, Blaise and Seamus. Blaise had become fast friends with Dean and Seamus over the past months, and that particular group, give or take a few others, had formed a study group that often didn’t do much more than gossip, but enjoyed each other’s company nonetheless. 

“You two have problems now?” Dean asked. 

“No. Not really. It's just that it's hard not to care what other people think. We try not to but it happens to the best of us,” Ginny explained. 

“No it doesn't. I am the best of us. I would know,” Blaise joked with a wink. “I don’t have problems. Ever.” 

“Speaking of problems…” Harry probed, “why is Draco-?” 

“Ooh, please don’t,” Blaise cut Harry off, putting a hand over his mouth. “I’m not allowed to speak to you about him. I’m prone to revealing things, apparently. Shit I shouldn’t have said that…” 

“But he’s not talking to me. Not since the article. I even followed him-” 

“You _followed_ him, Harry? That’s a little obsessive,” Seamus said apprehensively. 

“It’s not exactly unexpected though, is it?” Ginny added. “It’s obviously because of the article. I mean I think we all know Malfoy isn't exactly homophobic.” Blaise hid his snicker behind a cough. “So we can only guess what part of the article it’s about.” Ginny raised her eyebrows, widening her eyes at Harry, as if giving him a hint. 

Maybe Malfoy was angry that Harry had been with Philippe. Despite Draco’s reaction at that first breakfast, Harry had turned up in the entrance hall that evening, but he never showed. Could the blazing in his eyes that morning have been jealousy? Was Draco Malfoy jealous of another boy because he thought Harry was dating him? 

“I think something’s finally dawned on him. Good. Now Harry, can you help me with Charms? I’m not sure I get this thing about conjuring reverse charms,” Neville said, pulling them back to their books. 

*

It was the morning of the second task and Harry’s stomach was in his throat for more than one reason. The first reason was that the three champions might trust him more than their instincts, and end up doing badly in the Task because of it, leading them to hate him afterwards, even though it hadn’t been his choice. Unfortunately, Teo had managed to decipher the clue just two days before the task, and Harry had told her what he had to, trusting that she wouldn’t take it to heart too much. 

The second reason Harry’s stomach felt out of place was that walking towards him down an empty hallway for the first time in two weeks was Draco Malfoy.   
He’d been trying to speak to the blonde every day, using the Marauder’s Map when it was necessary. However, Malfoy had surrounded himself with people as often as possible, rare as it was for the boy. He hadn’t been overly social for years now. Or maybe even in the early years of school he’d just been faking it. Either way, it had been unusual.

Now, Draco was glancing at him, and doing his best to ignore him, and Harry, not wanting to intimidate him until they got too close for the other boy to run away. His hand twitched with anticipation. 

Malfoy was 30 meters away. Twenty. Ten. The tension between the two of them was too much. When they were just two paces apart, Harry stepped in front of him, causing Draco to stop only centimeters from him before stepping back again. 

“What the fuck? What are you doing? The stands are the opposite way, you idiot,” Malfoy spat. 

“I need to talk to you, in case you hadn't noticed for the past two weeks,” Harry snapped back, feeling a prickling in his chest and a wanting to lash out. As if he didn't know where the second task was being held. Everyone else would have headed there already, but Harry had needed some space, knowing what the second task would be. 

“There's nothing to talk about,” Draco spat and shoved Harry backwards, trying to push past. 

“Don't lie!” Harry shouted, rushing after Draco and pushing him up into the wall. “Don't lie! I know you care so don't bother telling me you don't,” he hissed, his forearm pressed against Draco's shoulders. The blonde’s anger faded, and he blinked, eyes wide. “You caring is why you're not speaking to me. Just tell me that. Just say it. Come on, you idiot.” Harry's teeth were gritted as he looked up into the pale face above him. He could feel Malfoy’s gaze sending shivers right through him. 

In that moment of weakness, Draco pushed back against Harry, turning them around so that Harry's back was now pressed against the cold stone wall. He was breathing heavily and felt much smaller in comparison to Draco than the true few inches. A heated look appeared in the taller boy's face, his lips parting and his eyes narrowing. Before he was fully aware of what he was doing, Harry leaned forward and caught Draco's lips with his. Draco tensed over Harry, one hand finding his waist, the other his chest.   
Harry melted into the kiss, feeling Draco's lips moist against his own, and his skin burning under his touch, reaching his hands into the silky blonde hair. 

This broke a barrier between the two of them, and Harry felt his whole world shatter until his world was only Draco. Suddenly Draco was clinging to Harry’s sides and Harry was tugging at the front of his robes, then leaning upwards to deepen their kiss before a breathless Draco pulled back. 

Harry swayed forwards as if to follow him but remained where he was to save some face. Both parties blushed and tried to hide their flustered selves. 

“I hope we'll be seeing more of each other again, Harry,” Draco managed to say with a smirk. Harry only nodded, but when Draco turned to head towards the second task, he saw a huge grin break out over his face and a hand reaching up to cover it. 

Harry sighed and allowed himself to smile at the slightly messed up blonde hair as it disappeared around a corner. Maybe being out to the wizarding world would be alright, because for once, Harry knew what he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all my readers out there! Please leave any comments and/or concerns below! I always love to hear your thoughts and opinions ^^
> 
> ***
> 
> What's this? Very unlike me to have a happy end to a chapter. The only cliffhanger atm is... what will happen in the second task? (Also the Philippe thing but like still)


	13. Win

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Second Task summarised  
> and a bit more Drarry

_Dark is the night_  
_I can weather the storm_  
_Never say die_  
_I've been down this road before_  
_I'll never quit_  
_I'll never lay down_  
_See I promised myself that I'd never let me down_

Harry was still grinning, thinking of his encounter with Draco a few minutes before when he slipped into a bench in the great hall next to Ron. 

“Oi, Mate, you were almost late! I almost thought you might not want to watch it,” Ron said in a loud whisper. “Where were you at?” 

“Needed some fresh air,” Harry replied and glanced over at the most noticeably blonde head in the crowd, a few rows in front of him and way off to the left. 

Before him, at one end of the great hall, the champions were standing side by side, ready to get started. Harry’s stomach leapt into his throat. It wasn’t a dangerous task, per se, but it if the Champions decided to take his advice over each other’s, then they were done for. Besides, Harry doubted that they wouldn’t trust him. People had lost lives because they’d trusted him, after all. Of all three, Harry was most worried about Ginny, caring most deeply for her. She was a skeptic, though, which would come in her favour in this task. 

Moran was already done introducing the Champions at this point. 

“And now,” came her booming voice around the great hall, “all three champions are at the starting line, ready to start their race.” Sure, thought Harry. ‘Race’. The champions were focused, each ready to run as soon as they could. Harry wondered if they had any idea what they were doing, or where they thought they were going. 

“Are you ready, champions? On your marks!” The crowd cheered, excited. “Get set!” A louder cheer, and Harry saw the corner of Ginny’s mouth twitch upwards. “GO!” 

The great hall erupted with sound as the Champions set off, all at high speed each trying to outrun the other to head towards wherever it was they intended to go. They got about forty feet along the hall when the ground dropped out from under their feet and the whole hall gasped, half of the students standing to look into the dark, empty space that they’d last seen the three champions. One girl screamed and when Harry looked at his classmates, they looked both nervous and excited. Slowly, the sound of stone grinding against stone began to surface from the deep pit, along with shouts from the champions which weren’t quite coherent words. 

The champions emerged on the rising stone floor rectangle which was now laid out like a room without any walls. There is a wardrobe, several trunks, a desk, a chest of drawers, a large bookshelf, and it’s quite a mess, covered in strange objects and lengths of cloth. Ginny is shouting, Philippe has raised his voice, and Teo is silent, but all appeared to be pointing their wands at the crowd, their spells bouncing off where the walls of the room would have been if there were walls. 

“Damn this! Nothing’s working,” Ginny yelled, furiously casting spells at the wall that was invisible to the spectators. 

“Why can’t we get out of here? We’re not even out of the great hall yet,” Philippe said. Teo had lowered her wand and was looking around, taking in the setting. 

“I am not sure we are meant to.” 

“The first contestant to figure it out! Have any of you half-blood or muggleborn students figured it out?” Moran announced, a mischievous spark in her voice. It appeared that the Champions couldn’t hear Moran in this task either, as they continued to talk as if nothing had happened. 

On the other side of Ron, Hermione drew in her breath and let out a long ‘ohhh.’ 

“What is it?” Ron asked her. 

“It’s a thing that muggles have for fun. It’s logic, see. You get trapped in a room and have to find clues to get yourself out. They’re not super common or anything, but my parents and I did one once.” 

“Seems a weird thing to do for fun.” 

“Shh, pay attention. They’re getting angry!” said Hermione in a loud whisper, turning her focus back onto the room-that-wasn’t-a-room. 

The champions inside were indeed beginning to argue. 

“Oh you _would_ say that, wouldn’t you?” Ginny had just said to Philippe, folding her arms. 

“Calm down, I was just saying that maybe the desk is a good place to start,” he replied, quite calmly. 

“Maybe you should not try to take control. We cannot know what you are going to do,” Teo added, looking a little vindictive, and quite unlike herself. A ticking noise was heard from under the desk. Philippe ducked under it and when he stood up, there was a clock in his hand, or rather, a stopwatch counting down from thirty minutes. 

“And is this real? How are we to know this?” Teo queried, eyes narrowed with suspicion. 

“Of course it is, what do you think I did? Conjured it specially?” Philippe asked with an irritated laugh. 

“I wouldn’t put it past either of you,” Ginny said. Teo looked offended.  
Their argument grew in volume and in how ridiculous it was for a solid minute and a half before Philippe yelled at the top of his lungs. 

“HOLD IT!” The girls froze. “Hold it. Why are we arguing? We don’t have that long. Hold on, what did Harry Potter tell both of you, then? Because if he told us all the same, we’re not going to get anywhere until it’s out on the table.” Eyes searched for and found Harry in the crowd and he cringed, sinking into his seat at the feel of everyone’s eyes on him.

Neither Ginny nor Teo spoke for a moment.  
“Fine, I’ll start. He told me that this is highly competitive and that I shouldn’t trust anyone else.” Both the female champions blushed, eyes wide as they realised what had happened. 

“Me too,” Ginny said with confidence. Teo nodded. “Harry Potter, wherever you are, I hope you feel good about yourself right now,” Ginny said looking up around the top corners of the walls. Harry sank further into his seat. 

“So what now?” Teo asked. 

“Now we have problems to solve,” Ginny responded. “Let’s start at the desk. We don’t have much time.” 

“What did I say?” said Philippe with a grin and an eye roll. 

The desk was littered with all sorts of pieces of parchment, all blank or full of scribbles. All were like this except for one which was the page of a book, which Teo found, rifling through everything. 

“I found this,” she said, hurriedly. “Maybe it came from a page of one of the books?” Ginny took it. 

“I know this story! It’s from the Tales of Beedle the Bard,” she said.

“Let’s try and find that book on the shelf then, shall we?” Philippe said, turning towards the bookcase and beginning to go through the titles. 

“Okay, you take the top shelf, Ginny take the middle, and I’ll take the bottom.”  
It didn’t take too long for Ginny to find the book. She opened to the story the page came from and flicked to the front of that story: The Tale of the Three Brothers. 

“There’s a symbol drawn over the whole page. The Deadly Hello? No… the Deathly Hallows! That’s it,” said Philippe. 

“It’s on that trunk over there,” Ginny said, her sharp Quidditch eyes already having spotted it. 

 

The task passed relatively quickly. They only had two minutes left by the time they found out how to get out. Only one person would be allowed out and they would be able to let everyone else out and risk not winning the task, or be the only one and certainly be the winner. 

“Don’t trust it,” Ginny had said. They gave the potion to Philippe, because he hadn’t yet had to do any major task, and he had walk straight out of the room the contestants had been trapped in. He took no heed of the audience's cheers, but turned and, reaching through the wall again, pulled out a random object, true to his word. Immediately, everything in the room disappeared, and both girls seemed taken aback by the sudden appearance of people in stands watching them. They shouted in delight and kissed. Cameras flashed, and Philippe looked noble as ever, not glorying in his win.

Well, Harry thought to himself, the task had been less eventful than he’d expected. Boring even, in comparison to the first one. The champions were too smart to be particularly phased by what he’d said to them. 

The crowd shouted their approval, so pleased that they’d been successful, yet they wondered how the scoring would be done. As if in answer, Moran spoke again. 

“And congratulations to our Champions who all made it out within the time limit! The scoring will occur in a moment and the Champions will be scored off their individual performance, logic skills, and their ability to work as a team despite what some wizard with a famous scar may have told them!” 

Philippe won the task, Ginny closely following, and Teo last. It just so happened that all the Champions were almost exactly tied, Ginny only two points behind Teo who was only one point behind Philippe now. Harry was glad that the second task was over, so that he wouldn’t have to deal with the pressure of being the only one to know about it anymore. It was a huge weight lifted, but when leaving the hall, he almost walked into Philippe who caught him by the waist. 

“Hey there, Harry Potter, you liar,” he said with a smirk. Harry only stuttered at the unexpected situation. “It’s alright. I know it probably wasn’t your fault. But you’re still coming to Hogsmeade with me tonight. There’s an event on I can’t wait to take you to.” Harry said nothing. “Hogsmeade fountain as eight. I’ll see you then,” and Philippe kissed his cheek to the surprise of many of the people standing around them, waiting to congratulate the Beauxbatons champion. 

Unable to decline as he was whisked out of the great hall by the large crowd, Harry sighed as he thought of his own defeat. And just when he’d figured things out. Surely he wasn’t… leading Philippe on, was he? 

*

Harry was explaining to Ron why he hadn’t told anyone about the whole second task thing, when Hermione rushed past giggling. 

“Come on, come on!” she said to Ron in a high pitched voice, tugging him along towards the common room. 

“Sorry mate, got to run!” Harry was left walking at a normal pace. He saw a few other eighth years hurrying past him and wondered what was happening. By the time Harry took the slide down, Seamus and Dean were the last he saw running down through the iron snake door which Pansy was holding open. 

“Hurry up!” she shrieked. Dean and Seamus were just through the door when Pansy began to close it. 

“We changed the password! Good luck, boys!” she giggled. Harry was just confused, when he heard a voice behind him. 

“Give it a break, Pansy!” yelled Draco. Harry span on the spot. “Well then,” Draco said, blushing. “At least it’s you here. You can change the password back. Although I don’t know how they did it. Only you speak… it.” 

“I uh… taught Ron a bit,” Harry said. He switched off any thought of anything except the knowledge of his decision to pursue Draco. “So I guess I’ll get us back in, unless… this is what you meant by seeing more of me?” Harry turned to him completely, raising an eyebrow. His stomach prickled pleasantly. He watched Malfoy’s Adam’s apple as the boy gulped. “But I suppose not. I guess I’ll… change the password then,” he said with a smirk, enjoying the knowledge of what his parseltongue did to Draco. 

Harry began to hiss words that had nothing to do with the password.  
“I find this incredibly amusing. I’m so glad I know what we both want enough to dare to do it.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Malfoy tense and his jaw clench. 

“Shut up,” the blonde said through gritted teeth. Harry grinned and did not switch back to English. 

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it.” 

“I said shut up! I know you’re not changing the password, so just… get on it so we can get back inside.” 

“I’m alright, thanks. And so are you. This affects you. It’s hilarious.” 

“Fucking hell, Potter!” Malfoy spat, avoiding Harry’s gaze. 

“What’s wrong, Draco?” Harry asked in English. Malfoy scoffed, still not meeting his eye. “I thought you’d like hearing more of that.” 

“You’re infuriating.” 

“I know. Should I stop then?” Draco said nothing, and Harry smirked. He continued to hiss sweet little nothings out, not looking at the blonde’s reaction, next to him. 

“To hell with you, Potter. Stop it. Just… stop.” He was redder that Harry had ever seen him before, and failing in his attempt to seem cold, rather than vulnerable. “I shouldn’t have said or done what I did before, okay? The whole… we should see more of each other thing and that. It was… it was utterly daft. But you don’t need to do this to me, okay? You don’t need to reduce me to this. It was stupid of me to even think… so just… don’t.” Harry heard Draco’s voice crack a little towards the end of this speech. 

Harry stared at him, completely taken aback. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind that he might simply been ‘messing with’ Malfoy. I mean sure, he was messing with Malfoy, but _because_ he liked him. 

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. I uh…” Harry felt awkward. He didn’t know what to do. Should he comfort the other boy? Hug him? Feelings really weren’t his strong point, Harry had to admit. He decided honesty would be the best policy. “Look, I do… I do like you, okay? I wasn’t sure if I did, or what that weird… tension was between us, but I’m pretty sure I know now. At least I think I do. You of all people should know I’m rubbish at this.” 

Draco glanced at him, making brief eye contact before looking back at the snake-filled door, forcing his expression to grow blank as possible. 

“Well, isn’t that the truth. And it’s okay, you know.” Draco sighed. “I just thought this could be fun. Secret. You know. Maybe I’m not buff or a triwizard champion but we both know I’m gorgeous so hey, your loss at the end of the day.” The vulnerable Draco that had been there just a moment ago was receding quickly. He was rambling now. Trying to find a way out of the trap he’d made for himself. “Not that it really makes a difference to me. You might be the ‘saviour of the Wizarding World’ but don’t go thinking too highly of yourself. To me you’re still-” 

Harry put a hand to Draco’s jaw and leaned up to kiss him, cutting him off mid-sentence. Malfoy didn’t hesitate, but melted immediately into his mouth, and his body, his fingers finding Harry’s waist. The kiss was soft and sensual, and very unlike the one they’d shared earlier that day. Harry felt warm. He felt secure. He felt content. A low moan escaped Draco’s lips, causing Harry to smile into his mouth and pulling him closer. 

Harry drew back a few seconds later, and Draco swayed forwards as if intending to follow him. The blonde changed his expression to one of indifference from the look of desperate longing that had been on his face just a moment before. 

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” he murmured, blushing furiously. “You could have just told me.” 

Harry rolled his eyes, grinning. 

“Didn’t I try? And besides, I didn’t hear you complaining.” Draco folded his arms and shifted his weight. 

“I wasn’t complaining. So I guess I could handle things like this. But don’t think this changes things. Especially in public. This isn’t a _thing_ or anything. Just clarifying.” 

“Oh of course not,” Harry chuckled. “But out of interest… why are you jealous of Philippe?” He smirked as Draco refused to meet his eye. 

“Come off it, Potter. Even you’re jealous of the idiot,” he said, rolling his eyes. 

“And that’s all you’re jealous of?” 

“He’s always touching you, and he looks as you as if you’re something he wants to eat. And you let him. It’d be a bit difficult for both of us to be your type, you know,” Draco huffed. 

“Well trust me. You have nothing to be jealous of. This ‘isn’t even a thing,’ is it?” Harry remarked, using finger quotes. “But yes. I’m sure we can make a little more time for each other.” 

The door to the common room swung open then, revealing around ten of the eighth year students gathered around, waiting to see what was going on. 

“Did anything happen? We realised a bit late you can’t hear through the door,” Pansy said. 

Harry felt a pang of hurt at the fact that this had happened, but he laughed it off. 

“No. What did you expect to happen?” he said, not wanting to reveal anything. “Don’t answer that,” he interjected as Pansy opened her mouth. “This was Pansy and Hermione’s idea, wasn’t it?” No one replied. Harry took that to mean yes. “‘Mione, can I talk to you please?” he asked in a passive aggressive tone of voice. 

 

Once alone in Harry’s own room, with Hermione seated on his bed, he let loose. 

“What the hell was that all about?” he asked her. 

“Oh Harry, I didn’t think you’d take it like this. I’m sorry. It was meant to be helpful,” she told him. 

“Okay, if you’d said funny, I could have gone with it, Hermione, but helpful? Really? _Helpful._ Sure. How would that be helpful? And if you had been listening, which I’m glad you weren’t, you realise that that’s just an invasion of privacy, even if it would have been kind of hilarious?” 

“That’s not fair. We’ve listened in on people all the time! Just when it’s you, you don’t like it. We… Pansy and I, that is, we just thought it might help speed up something inevitable, because you never talk to Draco anymore.” 

“The listening in part isn’t even what bothers me so much. It’s that. Speed up something inevitable? What’s that even supposed to _mean_? Malfoy and I are never going to be great friends. Deal with it,” Harry put in, remembering once more that Malfoy intended on whatever was between them remaining secret. Hermione was shaking her head. 

“Yes, it was nosy of me, but I hardly did anything unacceptable.” 

“Oh, you don’t think so? Sorry, Hermione, but I have somewhere to be, and if you can’t figure out how unreasonable you’re being, I’m going to go. I have somewhere to be.” Just to spite her further, knowing she didn’t like him, Harry added: “I have a date with Philippe.” 

*

It had been a lie. Harry didn’t consider whatever was to happen that night a date in the slightest, but it had made Hermione angry. He didn’t know why her and Pansy’s actions had bothered him so much. Sure, it was invasive, but Harry could handle invasive, couldn’t he? Usually, at least. Besides, it had been wrong, and Hermione should learn the error of her ways. She, who was generally the virtuous one. 

Harry took his time getting ready, still having several hours to spare, but at eight o’clock, Harry was down at the fountain, lit up magically in the semi-darkness of Hogsmeade’s evening. It was a romantic setting, and not one that was ideal in which to explain to Philippe that he didn’t want anything more than friendship, but Harry figured it was better to get it over with. 

“Hey there, ‘saviour,’” came a deep voice, and Harry turned to see Philippe behind him looking insanely gorgeous in a black coat, his skin glowing in the warm half-light. 

“Philippe. I uh… we should talk. I need to… I have something to tell you.” The dark eyes looked down at Harry, inquisitively. 

“Will it be long? I have plans for us.” Philippe reached down and took Harry’s hands. Raising one to his mouth, he kissed the back of it. Harry cleared his throat and drew his hands back from the taller boy’s grasp, folding them before his chest. He didn’t meet Philippe’s eyes. That would make it too difficult, he thought. The Beauxbatons student held up his hands in surrender.  
“Apologies. Is everything quite alright? Do you want to tell me here, or..?” 

“Yes, if that’s alright. It’ll be better to get it over with.” Philippe leaned against the the edge of the fountain, and Harry took a deep breath. 

“I… well. I don’t want to lead you on. Like I think I’ve been doing. Don’t get me wrong, you’re flawless. But I just can’t…” he drifted off. Philippe sighed. 

“There’s someone else, isn’t there?” 

“I uh… yes. I’m sorry I didn’t want to-” 

“Hey, hey. Don’t apologise,” Philippe rebuked. “The heart wants what the heart wants, right? Just so happens my heart doesn’t have ideal judgement of results. But… can we have fun tonight anyway? We can still be friends, can’t we?” 

Harry shook his head incredulously. 

“Merlin, you make me feel awful. Is there anything about you that isn’t great? You even take rejection well! What about you is unpleasant? I swear! You’re just too perfect for your own good, you know that?” 

“I try,” Philippe responded with a shrug and a smirk. “So?” 

“Sure. Yes. Let’s do whatever it is you have planned tonight anyway. Just not as… a date.” 

“Of course not. I wouldn’t want to keep this man or maiden away from you like that,” he said with a wink. “Come on, let’s go.” 

 

They made their way along the main street in Hogsmeade before coming to a rather lovely window display in front of some house selling garden supplies. 

“I have to mention,” said Philippe, “that your second task was rather more dangerous and interesting than ours, despite our Boggarts, faux sneakoscopes and bookcases that consume people. Wouldn't you agree?” Harry shrugged. 

“I suppose so. But your first task was arguably more deadly than ours. More people survive dragons than survive sirens. Also your group of champions is smarter. I would have failed both tasks you've been set so far. Hell, I would have failed all mine if it hadn't been for infinite hints.  
Also… sorry but, what are we doing here?” 

“Oh nothing. I just like this window. Hold on look at me,” said Philippe. Harry turned to him, and he raised a dark finger towards Harry's face. “You've got a little something right there.” 

Harry held still, waiting for Philippe to remove whatever he had on his face, and then, before he could fully register what was happening, Philippe said hand was not on before his face, but behind his head. An unfamiliar, hot, full-lipped mouth was on his, and Harry felt frozen with shock.  
In that same moment, near the other side of the street, Harry saw several bright white flashes, accompanied with the clicking noises of cameras.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave any thought and/or comments below! I always love to hear from you :) 
> 
> Okayy wtf is going on, guys? Wtf is Philippe doing??
> 
> Forgive me! It's been so long since I uploaded. I've just had so much to do and I wasn't in the zone. But now I'm back, and I hope I'll remain!! I'm loving writing Drarry at the moment. They're such fun, and there's so many angles to come at with the same characters and the same story.
> 
> Edit: I know it's been almost three months, and I know I really don't have much of an excuse but I promise you I'm coming back to this! I'm going to finish this fic if it kills me, no matter how long it takes, I promise you!


	14. Can't Find You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's no way what Philippe did wasn't on purpose, but Draco doesn't know what really happened, and he's not about to make it easy for Harry to explain.

_And I thought the sky was falling down_  
_Seems I can take that weight_  
_And not look for hidden meanings_  
_Sometimes rain is just rain_

 

_But I'll keep playing Atlas_  
_Though my shoulders ache_  
_And I'll spin this old world around_  
_Trying to see your face_

 

“Are you alright, mate? You look awful,” Ron remarked as Harry sat his weight heavily into a chair by the fireplace. Harry shook his head and laid it in his hands. “Want to spill?” Harry looked around at the other chairs. It was only Ron and Hermione, but as he wasn’t speaking to Hermione, he figured he might as well pretend she wasn’t there. 

“I was just out with… with Philippe.” Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Hermione’s eyes fix on him, and her lips purse. “And I told him I didn’t want to be anything more than friends, you know?” 

“Okay..?” said Ron, confused as to what was wrong with that. Hermione looked even more curious, clearly approving of Harry’s decision. He went on. 

“And we decided to just hang out instead. But then… he…” Harry didn’t know what was stopping him, but the words just weren’t coming out. They were caught in his throat and they simply wouldn’t come.  
Hermione had shut the book in her hands and was staring at him, not saying anything, recognising her place and staying where she felt was appropriate. 

“You don’t have to say anything, you know. But if you want to, then you’re gonna have to use your words,” Ron said, forcing half a grin. 

“I thought he was alright. I really did. But he’d made sure there were reporters there with cameras and then he… he kissed me. I’m sure that’s what happened. I didn’t bother sticking around to find out. Just apparated back up to the gates.” Harry said all this quite slowly but Ron didn’t cut in; he just listened, waiting, and probably trying to figure out what to say. 

“That is really shitty,” he exclaimed without finesse once Harry was finished. “What kind of fucked up bloke is he who thinks he can use you to get some kind of unwanted publicity about stuff that's just going to cause a big drama? I mean… now we know he’s dreadful, but he’s not stupid. Surely he doesn’t think this’ll go down well!” Ron’s indignance did make Harry feel that tiny bit better. 

“You heard him two weeks ago at breakfast, didn’t you? After that first article was published? ‘There’s no such thing as bad publicity,’” Harry quoted, his eyes staring without seeing into the flames. 

“What an utter prick. I thought he was alright as well. I can’t believe anyone can do that! I feel like an idiot right now. Bet you do too.”  
Harry looked over Ron with frowning eyes. 

“Thanks Ron, yeah. That’s really helping right now.”  
Hermione shifted in her seat then. 

“Well I won’t say-”

“Don’t do it, Hermione. Just don’t. It’s really not what I need right now,” Harry spat at her before she could get any further. She shut her mouth. 

“Look, I’m really sorry, Harry. This is utter bullshit that you really shouldn’t have to deal with,” said Ron. “You don’t need this kind of crap surrounding you, and we’ll help if we can, won’t we, ‘Mione?” He looked at her very pointedly and she nodded slightly. “It’s gonna be shit for you when that article comes out. I don’t know how to reassure you about that, but keep your head up, yeah?”  
Harry exhaled, shutting his eyes before standing up to face his friends. 

“Yeah. I’m going to… go to bed. Don’t wake me tomorrow. Goodnight.”

*

Harry woke up early that Sunday and left the dormitory before anyone else did. He grabbed his broom from under his bed and left as quietly as he could, kicking off from the ground hard as soon as he reached the open air of the main courtyard. 

Harry made sure to stay away from the castle all day, soaring instead around the grounds, the forest, and the surrounding hills, going fast, trying tricks, doing anything in his power to keep his mind off of things. The Sunday Prophet rarely published celebrity gossip of any kind, unless they were Quidditch players, so he'd have to wait the whole day to find out how everyone was going to react. 

The freezing wind in Harry's ears whistled and stung. It was cold to be flying, although it was Quidditch season. Snow lay around and it had still been dark when he'd kicked off. Flying low over the lake, he couldn't help himself. He thought of Draco. 

Harry figured he should probably say something before the news got out. He'd be able to explain that way and make everything clear. Draco had already admitted his jealousy of the other boy, yet he'd also said that he and Harry weren't going to ‘be a thing.’ That meant they weren't exclusive and that Draco didn't want to be. He had nothing to admit to really. Besides, he couldn't face him. Not yet. Not now. Would he be worse off for saying nothing? Probably. Was he going to do it anyway? Definitely. He didn't have much of an excuse, yet rather than dwelling on his poor choices Harry flew in a loop and headed towards a tree-covered Hill on the other side of Hogsmeade. 

This is how he spent the day. The whole day. Distracting himself from his thoughts, flying nonstop around the countryside. He didn't return until well after the early darkness fell.  
Harry stopped by the kitchens on his way to pick up some food, seeing as he hadn't eaten all day, before locking himself back in his dormitory, feeling fortunate that he had avoided everyone and didn't have to see anyone all night except Ron. 

*

Purely out of pride, Harry made a point of making it to breakfast on Monday morning, despite the fact that he made himself as small as possible when he edged into the great hall, taking an inconspicuous seat at the corner of the table. After all, he’d never let some article stop him going about his day before. At least… not really. The post had not arrived yet, as it was still early, but it wouldn't be long.  
Harry consciously made the difference to hold his head up high when others began to sit around him. Ron sat across from him and gave a sympathetic smile. Harry returns it, weakly. He barely notices everyone else. He’s searching for owls and a blonde head. 

Draco did enter the Hall then. A soft smirk was gracing his pale features and Harry’s insides lurched unpleasantly. Draco didn’t sit, but poured himself a mug of tea, adding plenty of milk and sugar, before standing behind Blaise, leaning on his friend’s shoulder.  
He looked over at Harry then who was already staring and raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing. 

“Morning, Potter,” he drawled, warranting looks from a fair few of the surrounding eighth years, and Harry flinched at the sound, forcing what was probably more of a grimace than a smile. Draco looked taken aback and mildly concerned but didn’t push it, as screeching was heard and the owls began to descend upon the students. Harry was suddenly focusing very hard on the scrambled eggs before him, chewing an unnecessary amount and eating unnecessarily slowly. 

He was vaguely aware of a tawny owl landing on the table in front of him and Ron grabbing a paper off of it before it again took flight. Harry didn't look up. 

“Shit, mate. It looks as bad as we thought,” he hears his friend voice.

“It's Skeeter as well,” Hermione adds in, spitting the name. Unable to resist, Harry raises his eyes from his own plate and snatches the Daily Prophet out of Ron's hands. Ron let's him take it. 

Front page, photo blown up nice and large, Harry saw himself in front of a lit up window in the snow kissing Philippe. It played over and over in an awful loop. His photo self does not look thrilled with the situation, he's pleased to see, but still kisses back, though feebly. Is this how it was? Harry asked himself. He tears his eyes away from the picture to read the start of the article to its right. 

,em>It seems that eligible, famous and recently outed gay bachelor Harry Potter is almost certainly off the market, after he was spotted with probable partner Philippe Cheron in Hogsmeade just on Saturday night.  
Philippe Cheron is of course a growing name, being the Beauxbatons champion for the Triwizard Tournament this year. We can only wonder if the two will work out how they will manage to stay together after the tournament. 

The article went on but Harry couldn't take it. He tossed it back at Ron and scoffed before scrunching up his face and running a hand through his hair. 

“You're just unlucky mate. Everything's all fine and dandy in the wizarding world at the moment, or else you probably wouldn't even have half a page in the Prophet, let alone the front page,” said Ron. 

Harry noticed that he was starting to get a few looks, and he looked helplessly down the eighth year table. A few of his friends didn't read the Prophet currently, Dean and Neville being among those. Pansy, however, kept up with the news in a dedicated fashion, and was currently poring over the newspaper which was laid out on the table before her. Her lips were pursed and Draco Malfoy was leaning over her shoulder, one hand on the table, and a muscle in his jaw twitching. 

“Nice article, Harry,” came the voice of some boy in the year below as he passed by, his friends giving a cat call and a wolf whistle as they went, one of them waving a copy of the paper. Harry's jaw clenched but he said nothing. Draco was looking back at him now, grey eyes iced over. He was coming over. Merlin, why was he coming over? 

“Well well. This explains a lot, Potter,” he said, coolly. He was smirking, but without any of the playful heat his smirks usually held. He was angry or upset and Harry couldn't quite make out which, and he left the Great Hall without another word.  
Harry hadn't moved either. After all, hadn't it been Malfoy who'd said not to make a thing out of it? He didn't want to make it one if that's not what the other boy wanted. What was he to do? Going after him would only make his own feelings seem more obvious after all.

His thoughts were cut off by more people's comments. Harry cursed them silently as he spotted Philippe’s smug face across the great hall. A friend was slapping him on the back. He caught Harry's eye and raised a brow. Harry looked away. Damn him. Several whispers, cat calls, whistles, and eyes followed him when he left the Great Hall and all throughout the school day. 

*

Harry felt an awful lot like he was in fourth year again, having teasing words and faces around every turn, only this time, he was four years older, which made it that much less acceptable for him to be feeling this way. It shouldn’t have mattered as much as it did, only that the whole article had been false. Fabricated. They hadn’t even gotten his sexuality correct after all, and it shouldn’t have been all that difficult.  
It’s not that every little opinion bothered him that much, but the people who mattered weren’t taking it well. Scratch that, though Harry. Person. The person who mattered wasn’t taking it well. 

Harry had been aware that Draco Malfoy liked him, or at least he thought he had been, but now that all seemed incredibly unlikely. He wasn't ignoring Harry, as Harry had suspected he would. Draco hadn’t reverted back to his ways of the start of the year either. Instead he seemed to have reverted back to his ways back when they’d been in school together before that, minus the racism, elitism, and most of the sense of self-importance. No, he was simply being haughty, rude, snide and teasing towards Harry specifically, and it stung more than Harry would have cared to admit. 

They were now sitting in Potions class and were meant to be brewing an Intentions potion, each with a different purpose in mind, which they’d selected for themselves. Out of spite, Harry elected to make his to cause people to want to listen to whoever was speaking to them. 

The idea surrounding Intention potions was that they were somewhat like the Imperius curse, except that they were used in order to get the drinker to want to do one task only. These were legal under certain conditions, but had to be passed through an official before use. Fortunately, Slughorn was one such official. It wasn't as versatile as the curse was, which was probably why it was legal if safe and consensual, however it did mean that the maker didn't have to be conscious of controlling the subject at all times. 

Harry made his way over to the supply cupboard in search of extra guinea pig ears. He looked at Draco as he passed him by, but Draco was looking into his potion, eyes narrowed. Harry looked away just as he stumbled over something in his way and sprawled onto the ground, intentionally not catching himself, knowing what that could do to his wrists. He heard a scoff from above him.  
Harry pushed himself up off the floor and didn't bother brushing off his robes. 

“I'm sorry, Draco?” he asked, questioning the scoffing noise, and failing at his target if remaining polite.  
Draco turned his eyes on Harry, an unidentifiable feeling in his eyes before it was hidden by the usual ice.

“You should really watch where you're going, Potter. Wouldn't want anyone to think our _saviour_ is losing his touch, now,” he sneered, the corner of his mouth twitching in cruel amusement.  
Harry bristled, flexing his hands before forming fists with them, knowing that it had been Malfoy who had tripped him. He didn't use them. This wasn't what he wanted- to hurt Malfoy. He wanted to fix things between them but Draco certainly wasn't making it easy on him. The past week had shown him that much.  
Harry relaxed his hands and gazed pensively back at the taller boy. 

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I'm usually much more aware of where you are. I'll be careful not to be an inconvenience to you.”  
Draco raised his eyebrows, a pink tinge appearing over his cheekbones yet his eyes were cold as ever. 

“I'd say it's a little late for that, wouldn't you?” he hissed in a dangerously low voice that sent shivers up Harry's spine. Draco broke eye contact, turning back to his cauldron which was simmering, purple blue steam rising from the similarly yet more vividly coloured potion. “Besides, perhaps you shouldn't say such things. Your _boyfriend_ wouldn't be too happy about it I'm sure.”  
Harry drew in a breath and tried to catch Draco’s eye again. 

“You know that’s not true. We’re not together, and I’ve told people that.”

“Maybe you should tell him that. It’s none of my business after all.” Draco turned to face him again. “Weren’t you heading somewhere, Potter? This is potions class, after all.” Harry didn’t push it further. He nodded, making sure to hold eye contact, trying to convey something, anything about how he felt to Malfoy, past that steely expression. He left to the cupboard, forgetting for a moment what he'd gone there for. 

Slughorn stopped by Harry's cauldron a little later, telling him he was doing alright, but that it was a little strong to be legal. 

“We don't want to go around breaking any laws now, do we boy?” He bent over Harry's forest green concoction, stirring it gently and inhaling the scent.  
“A listening Intention I presume?” Harry nodded. “Not uncommon, not overly complex, but this isn't bad, Mr. Potter. Anything to do with what I'm sure has been dwelling on your mind a lot lately?” he asked, giving Harry a sympathetic look. 

“One could say that,” Harry replied. Slughorn examined his expression. 

“I'm always as nervous as I am excited when I allow students any sort of choice in potion making. I often end up finding out far too much about their social lives and while it can be thrilling, there are times when I definitely feel like I've overstepped. Like that thoroughly illegal mixture your friend Mr. Malfoy is brewing up back there,” Slughorn said, gesturing to where Draco was standing. “Of course I can't dissuade him from it now, but who can help the poor lad?” Slughorn left then without another word. 

Harry was left standing utterly bemused in front of his cauldron. Draco brewing an illegal Intention potion? Of course no one was going to drink it, but if Slughorn was suggesting it had to do with his social life… Harry couldn't help being curious. Fortunately, he soon found out. 

Pretending to be searching for a dilute that would not mess up his potion, Harry found a jar of antelope bile no one would miss in the store cupboard just as Slughorn was approaching Draco. On the way back to his desk, he fumbled the bottle and dropped it, the foul contents splattering over the cold stone floor. He swore loudly. 

“Harry, language,” Slughorn prompted but he didn't sound particularly angry. “Do clean that up. A few scoring charms should do it, though it may take a few minutes.” He winked at Harry.  
Harry remembered the last and only other time he'd deliberately spilt potions ingredients in order to overhear a conversation. It had been armadillo bile in his fourth year in order to listen to Karkaroff and Snape talking. In comparison, this felt very minor- all about some boy. But Draco had always been an exception: if he was acting strange, Harry would go to any lengths to find out what he was up to. It wasn't Harry's fault he was only realising now what that meant. 

“I will allow you to complete this potion but you are to throw it out immediately afterwards, Mr. Malfoy. I can't go having people thinking that I am unlawful now can I?” Slughorn was laughing. 

“Of course, Professor,” Draco responded reluctantly. 

“Mmh, for Merlin's sake, do you want people running around without any sense of self preservation, not adhering to consent, throwing themselves at the people they want to be with? It could have disastrous effects you know.” 

“I'm aware, Professor. I'll throw it out.” Slughorn made an approving sound. 

“Make sure you do. That being said,” he leant over the cauldron, “This is excellently brewed I must say.”  
Having finished cleaning up the bile, repairing the jar and returning any decent bile back to the jar, Harry stood and returned to the store cupboard, looking for something that would actually help him dilute his potion. 

*

A whole week passed between the article coming out and Harry deciding to actively seek Philippe out, find out what was what, why he'd done it, and tear down his walls. 

The snow was starting to melt by now, unpleasant slush lying over the ground and squelching under students’ feet on their ways between certain classes, out in the courtyard. The air was very crisp around him, but Harry didn't pull his robes any tighter around him as he marched down to the side of the lake where Philippe was seated, several friends around him all joking and laughing.  
The sky was white with clouds, the lake a dull black before him, and Phillipe and his friends were on one of the logs that doubled as a bench. Though seeing him from behind, Philippe seemed just as attractive and charismatic and oh, did it bother Harry. However, it didn't physically phase him. He stormed up to the blue-clad group and cleared his throat to announce his presence. 

The other Beauxbatons boys were glancing between the two who had just made eye contact and grinning wickedly. Philippe had the audacity to smile at him. The _nerve_ of some people!  
Harry's eyebrows rose. 

“Philippe? Can I speak to you?” 

“Sure,” the other boy responded and stood. His friends cat called them and Philippe winked in response. Harry pursed his lips, terribly unimpressed. 

Harry stalked off, knowing Philippe would follow until they were back in the building. He didn't feel up to sounding accusatory when he was as cold as he currently was. Only once the door shut behind them and they were standing in the stone corridor, Harry spun around. He could practically feel his eyes blazing and it was obvious that Philippe was at least somewhat uncomfortable by now. 

“What the fuck?” he asked, venom lacing its way into his voice. Philippe furrowed his brow, looking confused. Harry scoffed loudly, raising his hands in exasperation.  
“Oh don't try and fake it, like you've been doing this whole time. Spit it out. All of it.” Philippe raised an eyebrow. 

“If you ask the right questions I'll be able to tell you what you want to hear,” he said coolly. The nerve. Honestly. 

“Oh for fucks sake fine,” Harry spat. “Let's start simple shall we? Why did you kiss me and _why_ were there cameras there?”  
Philippe leaned back against the wall. 

“I kissed you because I wanted to. As for the cameras, is it really my fault that they took photos? I mean, it happens. Sometimes you blab about something to the wrong person. It happens,” he said, sounding anything but innocent. He clearly wasn't trying to, as his acting was fantastic.

“Oh sure. Yeah I'm sure that's it. And you're telling people we're together?” 

“I'll have you know I didn't do anything like that. It's up to others how they interpret these things.” Philippe went through a change of attitude then and the kind, charismatic boy Harry had known before was suddenly back. “I like you, Harry Potter. Very much. I know I shouldn't have kissed you then. I know you said there was someone else, but I think we both know I'd be better for you, don't we?” Philippe’s eyes were kind and trusting in that moment. “Besides, he doesn't really seem to want you anymore does he?” Philippe’s hand rose towards Harry's face and he snapped, grabbing the wrist and tossing it away forcefully. 

“Oh that makes it so much better. And sure you like me. You like me, ‘Harry Potter’. That's all you ever call me isn't it? You never liked me. Just the attention it got you. Don't lie. Don’t lie to me. And I’m very much okay that you don’t like me, believe me.” Harry took a step back, appearing to even the height difference between them, though it wasn’t vast. He spat his words, eyes narrowed, posture taut. “People aren’t going to think of us as together for very long, believe me. I’m not one to go blabbing to the papers, but people will figure it out. Being loathed is worse than being no one. Trust me. I’ve lived them both.” Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Cruelty and malice weren’t his style. 

Philippe’s face transformed from the pleasant Triwizard Champion into one of disbelieving mockery. He laughed, and it could have sounded warm, but for his face. 

“Very clever, However, I’m certain you heard me when that first article came out, Harry Potter. There’s no such thing as bad publicity. I stick by that. There are a million things I haven’t done, and you’ve just helped me on my way.” Harry sighed and smiled in the most condescending way possible. 

“Ah, Philippe. Just you wait,” and he turned away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Wonder if my regulars will keep reading?  
> I promise I won't abandon this fic. I'll finish it if it kills me! 
> 
> Thank you so much to all my readers who have read this far.  
> Please don't hesitate to comment and thoughts or feelings below! I always want to know what runs through your head when you read my stuff :)
> 
> Announcement: I am considering getting a beta-reader to look over my work before I post it! I think it would be beneficial to my work. If anyone's interested and has practice either writing or beta-reading, drop me a comment! I'll get back to you within a week if I choose you ;)


	15. We Can Work It Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title says it all.

_Life is very short, and there's no time_  
_For fussing and fighting, my friend_  
_I have always thought that it's a crime,_  
_So I will ask you once again_  
_Try to see it my way,_  
_Only time will tell if I am right or I am wrong_

 

The weather began to get better over the next week, and the clouds were clearer. Though the days were still short, the sun shone much of the time and the air felt fresh rather than crisp or icy. 

The Daily Prophet article had begun to die down, though Harry still got comments from people when he passed in the hallways without avail. It wasn't nearly so bad as four years back, as people didn't want to disrespect the ‘saviour’ and all that, but Harry was also a student. Being a student meant he could also be bait. Perhaps there was no more drama surrounding Voldemort and himself, but if anything, he was more well known than ever.

Instead of letting it get to him and spending all his time trying to resolve things and have people know the truth, Harry threw himself into his work, into flying, and spent time helping Hagrid with the winged horses and other creatures he used for his classes. Harry had decided that it wasn't worth the hassle, but he was still trying to fix things with Draco. They'd been close to something, whatever that might have been, but he hadn't been able to get Draco to listen yet. Harry was in the library with Dean, Seamus and Blaise, a fraction of his usual study group, getting a Charms essay done for Professor Flitwick on wandless charms and channelling what had once been uncontrolled magical outbursts from children, as well as adults who still had occasional outbursts.

Dean and Seamus weren't getting much done, but were joking and being tactile with one another, poking each other in the ribs, brushing hands, tugging hair. Blaise had had quite enough of it where he sat taking notes on a Herbology textbook.

“Oh for fucks sake, you two. Go down to your damn dorm and just let it all out already, will you?” he exclaimed, setting down his quill and leaning back in his chair. Harry looked up, eyes moving from Blaise to the other two. Seamus raised an eyebrow at Dean who smirked back.

“I like that idea,” Dean confirmed leaning into his friend. Harry frowned, confused.

Seamus wrinkled his nose, grinning as well. Neither said another word, but hastily shoved their books and parchment into their bags before leaving the table. Seamus winked at Harry as he went.

“What was that?” Harry asked, turning towards Blaise who ceased the fond shake of his head to fix Harry with an incredulous stare.

“Oh you've got to be kidding me. No? You're actually serious, aren't you?” Blaise ran a hand over his head. “Merlin, Potter, you really are as oblivious as they say.” Harry was taken aback.

“Who says that?”

“Just people. Your friends, your… not-quite-friends. People. People who know. Trust me.”Pushing his parchment out of the way, Harry turned to fully face Blaise.

“You didn't answer my question. Also do these people include Draco, perchance?” Blaise waved a hand in a disinterested manner.

“Oh they're going to go fuck to release that pent up sexual energy. They've been together since sixth year. Off and on due to questioning since fourth, I'm quite sure. But as for your latter question, yes. Draco.” Harry swallowed.

“I'm going to pretend that first bit didn't surprise me.” That made Blaise roll his eyes. “But… can we talk about Draco? I know last time you said he wouldn't let you say anything but things are clearer now. Sort of. Aren't they?” He fumbled his hands, picking at the calloused skin on his fingers, hardened from flying.

“Are they?” Blaise asked. “I mean, in ways, yes. You both know that you're into the other now, which was an issue with you before. But beforehand it was easier I think. Draco had come to terms with the whole unrequited thing and all, and there you were, totally oblivious to his feelings, and your own. Draco didn't think anything would ever come of it, so he dealt. It was easy, you know?” Blaise frowned and bit his lip, looking away from Harry. “I don't know if I was meant to tell you all that to be honest. But I can't handle it. I mean... something’s gotta give.” Looking up from his hands, Harry switched his gaze to fix on Blaise, tapping the table, due to nerves.

“Draco wasn't into me before. He hated me. And I mean… I hated him.” Blaise looked at Harry as if he'd claimed Nicholas Flamel was a young living boy of 10.

“Oh dear, it's worse than I thought.” Blaise picked up his quill again. “Look, I don't want to say anything else. Draco's my friend. You know, there's that whole trust thing we’re meant to respect. But you need to talk to him. I don't care if you have to bodybind the bloke, but just talk to him. He'll want to understand, even if he won't admit it.” Blaise turned back to his work. Harry debated it too for a moment. Then he gathered up his things, and left, walking with purpose towards wherever Malfoy was.

 

*

 

Draco did most of his work in the common room, as Harry had soon discovered upon his return to Hogwarts. There were several students seated there, chatting in low voices or bent over parchment or books. A few looked up upon Harry's entrance into the large stone room. Draco's eyes widened and then narrowed. He put the book he was holding aside and left the room, heading towards the dorms.

“Wait, Draco,” Harry called, hurrying after him. He ignored the exasperated sighs of the other students. Draco did not wait, but sped up.

“Damnit, I said wait!” Harry growled and suddenly, Draco froze, stopping dead in his tracks. He didn't turn around though. He looked as if he intended to keep walking.

“What the fuck, Potter?” Draco hissed through his teeth. Harry caught up with him and walked around to face him.

“Why aren't you moving?” asked Harry. Malfoy scoffed.

“Gee, I wonder. Maybe if you hadn't put a binding curse on me I would have managed to get out of your bloody way.” A… binding curse, thought Harry. He hadn't used his wand and yet he'd put a binding curse on Malfoy. Wandlessly? Had he… wandless magic? His thoughts were incoherent, trying to make sense of what he'd just done. Harry decided to deal with this overwhelming idea later and focus on the matter at hand.

“Well at least this way I can actually make you listen to me,” he decided.

“You can't make me you know. And if I decided I wanted to listen I wouldn't do it here.” Harry moved his head to look around Draco's own. Several other eighth years were visible in the common room, most looking at them.

“Maybe you're right. Let's go then.” Harry pulled out his wand and released Draco, but kept his wand on him as he tugged the blonde around a few bends in the pipes. Draco swore at him the whole while.

“I really need to talk to you, Draco. Please just… just listen?” Draco was blinking rather rapidly, looking up and away from Harry. He tugged his arm away.

“Why should I?” he spat, still not making eye contact.

“I want to explain to you about Philippe,” Harry insisted. Draco scoffed.

“I don't have time for this.” He started to push past Harry but Harry caught his arm and held him there.

“But you've got it wrong. Just listen to me for crying out lou-”

“No!” Draco shouted, cutting him off. He tugged his arm from Harry's grasped and spun to face him. His eyes were welling up with tears. He looked so vulnerable. Harry had never seen him like this. “No, I shouldn't have to listen to you try to explain your way out of this one. Frankly I shouldn't even hold it against you, should I? But it's hard. Merlin! It's so hard. Especially when I thought maybe I finally had you in some small way. But of course I shouldn't have thought that because you're Harry fucking Potter and who the fuck am I except the bad kid who wasn't even bad enough to become a real villain?” He was rambling, crying, and looking at Harry as if it pained him to his core. Harry was staring back at him, not knowing if he should say anything, or if he would even be able to if he tried.

“I could have fallen for anyone but just my luck it had to be you. I've failed at everything I've tried to be in life and I knew I could never hope to be good enough for you in any way and then this year I thought maybe you didn't hate me anymore. And then I even thought that maybe you liked me, and then this happens and tears all that hope back again and I don't want to keep getting hurt like this! Six years it's been, and did you even notice? No! You may know how hard it is to battle off monsters and dark Lords, but you don't know even for a moment how hard it is to be in love with you when you're me.”

Harry stood dumbstruck, looking up at the other boy, and having no idea what to do. Not after a speech like that. Draco stood there, chest heaving, eyes glistening and slightly red.

“Draco,” he finally managed to choke out. Surely after that things should be okay. Surely now they could work it all out. Draco broke their eye contact and stepped back.

“Don't. You don't have to say anything. In fact, please don’t speak. Just know that I'd be able to handle all this if you were happy, but you don't seem it. Leave it.” Draco was the one who left it however, and Harry was still standing in the passageway, utterly bewildered, and unsure if he'd really just heard that. But of course he had. That could not have been more real.

After a few deep breaths and wondering why all his conversations recently seemed to end with someone left sitting or standing somewhere somewhat abandoned, Harry made his way to his dormitory to grab his broom before leaving the castle. This kind of thought processing required a long, hard fly.

 

*

 

“Hey Draco, working on them Impressions again?” Harry asked with a grin just the next day as he sided into Draco's not-so-secret corner. “Any of me in there?” Malfoy didn't look at him. He spoke through gritted teeth.

“You've always been a prat, Potter, but I didn't think even you would use what I said to you to make fun of me so soon after a confession like mine. I thought you were better than that, oh noble Gryffindor.” Harry didn't falter. He cocked his head.

“Oh you think I'm better than a lot of things, don't you?” he said, moving close to a Malfoy, and brushing one hand through the blonde hair. Malfoy lifted his eyes to Harry's own and glared painfully at him. His brows were drawn together, his face pale against the dark stone wall.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked, putting effort into keep his voice hard and cold, but only succeeding in letting his voice shake, somewhere between anger and hurt. Harry dropped the facade as soon as he heard that tone. Why had he thought this approach would work? What was wrong with him? His plans of any kind were always ridiculous. Maybe he should have made up with Hermione and gotten her help… Harry dropped to his knees beside Draco's hard wooden chair and ran his fingertips down his jaw. Draco flinched away.

“Oh Merlin, no, that's not what I'm doing I promise. I would never.” He could no longer see Draco's face, but he knew there could be nothing positive to say about it. “Draco, please believe me. Shit, this all came out wrong didn't it?”

“There's a reason neither of us ever let out our feelings, Potter,” said Malfoy in a cold voice. “We aren't exactly great communicators.” Harry laughed weakly and gripped the back of the chair with one hand.

“Let me try, or nothing’s ever going to go right, yeah?” Draco did not turn to face Harry at this.

“I suppose I could, seeing as your self-preservation levels seem low as ever.” Draco’s voice was still cold. Still terribly guarded. However, Harry grinned at this.

“You can’t be feeling that angry if you’re making fun of me again,” he said, then shook himself. He was supposed to be explaining himself. The flirting could wait until later, surely. “Okay. So…” Harry paused. Fuck. Why weren't the words coming out? Not that it hadn't happened before. He swallowed and closed his eyes, pushing everything away except the words he had to get out. “I like you,” he blurted, before opening his eyes to a small, shocked sound coming from the blonde. Draco's breathing grew heavier before he sighed.

“And? I'm just going to believe that am I? The same way I believed you might like me before this whole Daily Prophet thing?” Harry winced at the mention of the article. That picture.

“I'm telling you now. Explicitly. I like you, Draco. And the whole Daily Prophet thing was a misunderstanding.” Draco scoffed.

“Oh yes, it's so incredibly easy to misinterpret two people kissing as something totally unromantic.”

“Look at me, Draco. Please.” Draco didn't move. Harry put a hand on his knees and pulled them around so that Draco had no choice but to face him. Their eyes met. The blonde’s eyes were glassy but his glare was no less fierce. “Philippe is an idiot. After the second task, I met him in Hogsmeade, and I told him I didn't fancy him that way and then he kissed me. He'd told the reporters that we were going to be there. As soon as I got him off me, I apparated back up to the school gates. I swear to you that's exactly what happened. You've watched me enough. You know I'm not lying.”

Where this dash of eloquence had come from, Harry didn't know but it was so incredibly important to him that Draco knew what had happened. He needed to know that Harry didn't want anyone else. He watched Draco's Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed as the boy’s eyes flicked away from his own.

“So what is it you want then, Potter?” So Draco believed him. It was a relief, although not a surprise, but now… well, what did he want? Draco had said he didn't want it to be a ‘thing’ but he had also told Harry he loved him. What he was supposed to say he wasn't sure.

“I… I don't know. Whatever you want is okay with me. I'm fine with it not being a big deal if that's what you want?” Harry was searching the other boy’s face for some kind of hint. Draco's eyes darted away.

“Is that what you want?” His voice was cold, his posture hunched.

“Well… to be honest I’ll probably take whatever you give me,” Harry articulated, scratching his neck awkwardly. “But our… situation is… well, it’s somewhat unique, you know?” Draco wasn’t moving.

“So what do you propose?”

“Oh come on, give me something to go off here,” Harry said irritably, becoming frustrated at Draco’s lack of initiative. At this undertone, Malfoy finally shot his gaze back up to meet Harry’s dead on.

“Well I think I made my intentions quite clear,” he snapped in return. “I want us to… I want there to be an us, but if it all goes to shit, like I know it will, because you’re you and I’m me, then maybe it’s not the best decision to let anyone know simply for self-preservation reasons. Is that good enough for your ‘something to go on’?” Harry blinked in surprise. 

“Um… yeah. Yes, that makes sense. Not that I think it will go to shit. I mean we argue, but really, we’ve been alright about that this year, don’t you think? And I mean… shit, this is awkward. But there’s a lot between us, Draco and the negative has all but run out. Surely it can’t hurt to have a little faith in… whatever _this_ is, right?” Perhaps it was wishful thinking but perhaps it was also right. There was always hope and Harry was realising more and more how badly he wanted him and Draco to be a permanent thing. Draco scoffed and raised his eyebrows.

“If that’s really what you think, _Potter_ , then you’re more naive than I thought. And believe me, I already thought you extremely so.” Harry raised an eyebrow, incredulous.

“Seriously? How long are you going to keep doing that?”

“What?” Draco asked, eyes narrowing with irritation.

“Let me get this straight: you kiss me. We go a while not talking. I figure out I like you. I kiss you. We don’t talk for a bit again. You confess you’ve been in love with me for six years which… wow. And then the next day you go and continue to call me by my last name even after I’ve confirmed that I like you back? Merlin.”

“That is essentially what I did, yes. Just because there is an _us_ of some sort now does not mean I'm going to go changing all my ways and giving you preferential treatment.” Harry couldn't hold back his grin.

“So there is going to be an us then? We're going to give this a shot of some kind?” He probably looked like a bit of an idiot with that smile plastered across his face to be honest. This situation was so bizarre. He was grinning at the thought of being in a loving relationship with Draco Malfoy of all people. _Malfoy._ Oh the ways of the world. What the actual fuck. Draco Malfoy threw his hands up in exasperation.

“Oh for fucks sake, Potter. I think I've already confirmed that. Don't make me repeat it. What I've already done is degrading enough.” The corner of his lips were twitching though, showing how hard he was trying to suppress this smile.

“It's okay. I won't tell anyone. Not if you don't want to. Won't disgrace the good name of Malfoy,” Harry said, reaching out as he so desperately wanted to to brush aside that one lock of hair that from time to time didn't obey Draco's extensive hair routine. Draco turned his head away.

“Oh yeah. The good death-eating, Dark-lord-following name of Malfoy. Hardly something to be proud of, is it? I could have killed you.” His voice broke on the word -killed- and Harry shook his head, smiling in an attempt to brighten the mood.

“No. You wouldn't have. You love me too much.” Their eyes met once more and Draco huffed a small laugh.

“And I can't even deny that. Unfortunately one does not cause the other. I'm not capable of killing. One of the few things that has nothing to do with you when it comes to me” He shivered, although the once damp, slimy stone walls now radiated heat throughout the winter. Hesitantly, Harry raised his hand and laid it against Draco's cheek. This time he did not shy away, but leaned into the touch, eyes flickering shut.

“You say that like it's a bad thing.” Harry's voice was soft.

“It was, once, from where I stood.” Harry dropped his hand from Malfoy’s cheek to his chin, causing him to open his eyes again.

“No. It was never right. I think you knew that deep down. It's why you couldn't kill Dumbledore, or anyone else. You knew that.” Draco jerked his chin away from Harry's grasped but turned his face back so that their eyes still met.

“Not all of us are fucking martyrs. I'd be lying if I said I didn't admire your strength of character but I also doubt you've ever heard of a little something called self-preservation. Some of us become morally corrupt in order to maintain it. I'm sure that's a little difficult for you to comprehend.” He spat the words but his eyes were soft. Hurt. It made Harry flinched back a little.

“I never thought worse of you for what you did. I know that circumstances were rough at best, and I wouldn't want you to give your life up. You wouldn't be here now then, would you?” he was smiling again by the end of this.

“No it’s suppose now,” Draco responded, face blank. He took his wand out, muttered something, and there was another hard wooden chair beside him forming somewhat of a bench. He nodded at it and Harry got up, sitting in it. Something dawned on him then. He turned to bring it up.

“So you lied about the Amortentia then didn't you? Hermione didn't fuck up the recipe?” Draco rolled his eyes, going a rosy pink under his pale skin.

“Merlin, Potter, the first thing you bring up, really? Why didn't you ask her?” He pondered this for a moment. He had asked Hermione and she'd said… oh.

“She said she did it right. But I wanted to hear it from you?” It came out as a question. Draco turned on him, dangerously close. Harry gulped.

“Do you mean to tell me that you didn't believe _Hermione_ who made the damn potion, or even Slughorn who didn't correct her? But you believed _me_ who isn't nearly as good at potions and could and did easily lie to save my own skin?” Draco was so full of glee at this. It was a stark contrast from their previous solemn conversation.

“Really? You'll call Hermione by her first name before you switch to mine? That's insulting.” Draco just raised an eyebrow, awaiting an answer and Harry felt himself go warm with the colour undoubtedly spreading across his cheeks. “But… yes. Basically.” Without warning Draco Malfoy surged forwards, framing Harry's face in his hands and kissing him, hard but chaste. When he drew back, they were both slightly shocked and slightly breathless but a dopey smile adorned both their features.

“You are so fucking gone for me, Potter.”

“You're a huge sap aren't you? We're going to be all cute and romantic and disgusting alone together aren't we? Even if you refuse to call me by my first name? It sure is something.” Harry deadpanned.

“I won't deign that with an answer. But now the whole Siren comment is explained and I no longer have to hope pitifully that it meant something.”

“You know you’re damn attractive anyway. And of course it meant something,” said Harry, running a thumb up Draco's cheekbone. “You mean something. A lot, in fact.” Harry's fingers ran into Draco's hair and began twisting strands around themselves. Draco sighed softly, closing his eyes for a second before opening them again.

“You have to mean that. There's no point in doing this whole thing if we're not going to be exclusive to each other, okay?” he said, voice much colder than Harry knew he currently felt. He chuckled softly.

“I'm not going to do anything with anyone else. I promise. Just you. And I'll get the whole Philippe thing to go away.” He raised the hand not in Draco's hair to the boys neck, thumb running back and forth along his jaw. Their knees were jammed together in a way that was reassuring, if slightly uncomfortable. He felt Draco swallow before biting his lip.

“And we aren't going to act any different because of it.” It was clear Draco was trying incredibly hard to keep his voice steady. “We'll probably still argue just as much and I'm not going to stop teasing you about every little thing you do. And you're still going to stay away from me.” Harry was grinning hard enough for it to hurt at this point and he drew his hands back already knowing what the other’s reaction to it would be. Sure enough, Draco's brow furrowed.

“What? No, Potter, what the fuck? That wasn't an invitation to stop doing what you were doing.” Harry laughed, putting his hands back where they'd been as Draco grumbled with false malcontent. He leaned in and kissed Draco's cheek.

“Can I see those Impressions you've been making then?” he asked with a sly smile.

“Fuck off Potter,” he scoffed but didn't move out from Harry's hands and Harry laughed again. Draco removed Harry's hand from his neck and intertwined their fingers before kissing the back of Harry's hand reverently.

“Give it a couple weeks. Then we'll see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave any/all comments and thoughts down below! I always love to hear from my readers! :) 
> 
> What? A happy chapter ending? I thought you deserved it after I made you wait so much. Oops... However, if you've read this far, you know nothing can ever be perfect, can it?  
> I am not happy with the title of this fic and I lowkey wanna change it? But I feel like I'm too far in? And idk what I'd change it to either.
> 
> Been a while, huh? This chapter caused me a bit of grief tbh. And yes I've had a lot of work but it's really no excuse. At all. Have faith. We're well over half way and I have stressful months ahead but we'll see I guess.


	16. Take It Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Draco and Harry's something is kept a secret and Philippe gets more lies in the papers

_ Don't let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy _

_ Lighten up while you still can _

_ Don't even try to understand _

_ Just find a place to make your stand _

 

“Don’t go anywhere, please,” said Hermione when she approached Harry in Defence Against the Dark Arts. He made no effort to move, but sat still in his seat, continuing to take notes on mass mind-messaging (which he already knew about) somewhat haughtily. It was odd for the two of them. Their places seemed somehow switched. 

Hermione was worrying her lip next to him. He nodded, urging her to go on. Hermione looked up from the desk, checking the whereabouts of the Professor (who was drawing up a diagram of the physical dangers of magical mass mind-messaging in thin air at the front of the room) before turning back to Harry. 

“Okay,” she breathed. “Okay, I’m sorry.” Harry bit his tongue hard, dragging his teeth harshly over the surface, and looked at her. Hermione’s eyes were downcast in concentration and a touch of shame. “I’m sorry I decided to interfere with what was going on. It’s not what I usually do, and I could argue that you’ve had a bad influence on me,” Harry smiled weakly at this, “but in all reality, I knew what I was doing. I just though… if I got involved, I could speed up the inevitable? 

“What I did seems to have caused more trouble than the whole you and Draco thing was actually worth. I mean… I know if you wanted to be together, you would make it happen. And I’m sorry for trying to force something that you didn’t want to happen in that way. You’re perfectly capable of starting a mature adult relationship by yourself. I mnow that. And I’m sorry.” 

It was an elaborate apology, Harry had to say. And in all honesty, he’d been more angry that Hermione had been more aware of the situation between himself and Draco for longer than he had been. The situation between Draco and himself being very different now, Harry couldn’t help but smile and forgive. 

“It’s fine,” he told his friend. “Really. It’s very much fine. I was being stupid, I know. Besides-” Harry took a deep breath and let go of his pride to admit this next part- “you did help. I doubt we’d be friends now otherwise. I would’ve just kept ignoring him otherwise, and we can get on sometimes now, so…” 

It was only partially a lie, after all, and one that he was okay with teeling. It hadn’t been two days, and he wasn’t about to piss Draco off quite yet.

“I guess that’s good? Well, either way, I won’t interfere anymore,” Hermione told him and a smile passed between them before she got up and returned to her seat. 

It had been a fight over nothing, really. A fight over Harry’s pride, and a one sided fight at that, so really it had just been Harry’s petulance holding him back from talking to Hermione. However, when Hermione inevitably found out he’d been lying about the platonic nature of his and Draco’s relationship within the next months, he also realised that the possibility of a real fight lay in store. However, that was a problem for a day too far in the future for Harry to concern himself with in that moment. 

 

*

 

Ron and Hermione didn’t really ask questions as to why they were sitting with the ex-Slytherins during meals again, but they seemed glad enough that Harry wasn’t fighting with Draco anymore. 

It was dinner, and Harry and Draco hadn’t really managed to grab a moment alone since they’d spoken. What had passed so far had been simply exchanged looks and unobtrusive touches, and sitting across from him now, Harry had to try rather hard not to glance at him so often that it would seem suspicious. 

“You know people always said that last year of NEWT’s were the worst, but it hasn’t been so bad really,” Ron was saying, sounding particularly surprised, never having excelled at schoolwork. “I mean not that I’m top in anything, but I never was.” 

“Well you did do a shit ton of crazy magical things over last year. But they’ve never really taught me the one thing I’ve always wanted to learn,” Blaise responded. 

“And what’s that?” asked Ron. Blaise grinned, and Harry new something godawful was going to come out of his mouth. 

“How to kick fish out of the water and onto the stove.” A few of them laughed and some just looked confused. “I just think that it would be the best power and yet no one has really looked into it,” Blaise insisted. Harry was shaking his head while he pulled another piece of potato off his fork and felt a foot run its way up the inside of his extended calf and he stiffened, coughing on his potato. 

He glanced over at Malfoy who was smirking but had his eyes fixed on the conversation beside them. 

“Are you alright, mate?” Ron asked, patting Harry on the back. “Don’t hurt yourself.” Harry glared at Draco. 

“Fine, thanks,” he said. He watched as Draco’s smirk grew into a mischievous grin as he continued to eat, playing it off at amusement at Pansy’s joke. Harry chewed his tongue and when Draco met his eye at last, he cocked an eyebrow, tongue pressed against his teeth. 

Draco raised his eyebrows, a look of false innocence gracing his features as Harry felt a foot make its way under his own and flex to its full extension. Harry gulped but glared at him, insistently pressing his foot back down. A faint blush blossomed over Draco’s cheekbones and he exchanged his pleasant expression for something more akin to his usual glare. 

“Uh… are you two alright? You’re not fighting again are you?” Hermione asked while Pansy also flicked her eyes between the two of them. 

Both boys looked at the girls and then back at each other. Harry faked a grin when his gaze returned to Hermione’s. 

“We’re just fine actually. I told you Hermione. We’re good. All solved. Friends now and all that,” we said, that smile plastered one as he slid his foot around the back of Mafoy’s calf and he felt the boy freeze up. Two could play that game after all, and Harry wasn’t about to back down from a challenge Draco set him, no matter the situation between them now. 

 

*

 

Ginny and Teo were sitting in the library, Ginny pointing at and talking animatedly about a book on magical creatures between the two of them, Teo gazing adoringly at the redhead. Harry practically stormed into the library, confronting them. They straightened and stared at him, hands intertwined between them. 

“Yes?” Ginny asked, eyebrow raised at Harry with her usual tone of sass. Harry grinned. 

“So when’s your next interview for the tournament?” he asked, taking a seat at the end of the table. 

“This Sunday,” Teo answered, her face blank, at the same moment that Ginny said “Why?” They shared a very fond (if mildly exasperated) look. Harry’s grin grew as he watched them turn back to him simultaneously. 

“Thing is, you two are both Champions. You’re close. You’re dating, as a matter of fact,” Harry said. Teo gaze unimpressedly back at him. 

“What a revelation Harry. I have never noticed this,” she said, and Ginny grinned, lifting Teo’s hand and kissing it. Harry rolled his eyes at the sickening affection. 

“Well, Philippe’s a bit of a dick, isn’t he?” Harry had long since explained the situation to Ginny who had of course relayed it to her girlfriend. 

“Right. We know that. But most people do not,” said Teo. 

“You’re too nice, Harry. You need to let people know how dreadful he is!” Ginny told him. Harry laughed. 

“Well, that’s ironic, as I’m here to discuss how we can make sure a few more people end up hating Philippe.” Ginny looked at him, eyes wide and warning. “I don’t want to do anything bad! Just humiliate him a bit is all. Merlin knows he deserves it. So we have the interview which you two can obviously influence, and there’s just one more way we can fuck him up a little. And I thought maybe you two could help?” 

The two girls exchanged a look, smiles tugging at the corners of their mouths. They looked at Harry. 

“I think we can manage that,” Ginny decided. “What did you have in mind?” 

 

*

 

Harry was incredibly smug the following week when he walked up to Draco in the deserted common room reading the Daily Prophet in his midmorning free on Monday. 

“Well now. What  are you reading there, Mr. Malfoy?” He practically swaggered over to the sofa Draco was sitting on and plopped himself down, leaning into the other boy who looked at him with a blank face. “Are you pleased?”

“I can't believe you,” Draco deadpanned. “You're absolutely ridiculous.” Harry grinned and leaned further into Draco. 

“Not bad, huh? It's not too much, I don't think, but people aren't too pleased with him anymore. Doesn't seem like much.” he looked over Draco's shoulder at the article. 

“How did you even..? I mean I get the interview thing. You're all close with the other champions and they did the rest for you. Makes sense. But this? Rather Slytherin of you. I definitely approve. But why?” Harry's brow furrowed when he heard this, looking at a rather unexpected photo in the paper. He snatched the Prophet out of Draco's grasp to take a closer look himself. 

On that particular page was a rather short article decorated with two large pictures- one of himself and the other of two people kissing? How odd. And one of those other people was unmistakably… that was Philippe. No doubt about it. 

**_Champion Cheater of our Saviour?_ ** read the headline. What was this? Hilarious, but what? 

“This wasn't me. This so wasn't me,” Harry said somewhat to himself rather than to Draco. 

“Well clearly it isn't you he's snogging. We've spent almost all of the last weekend together haven't we? And if it were we would not be speaking right now either, I'll have you know,” Draco said coldly before snatching the paper back. 

“That's not what I meant.” Harry shook his head and fixed his eyes on Draco. “I mean… I really wouldn't do that. Not my style. Gryffindor, remember?” he said, gesturing at himself. Draco looked back at him and rolled his eyes and leaned in, briefly kissing Harry.  

“Yeah yeah. Whatever you say, Potter. So how'd you manage it?” Harry sighed. 

“No. Really. I didn't. The interview thing, yes, that was my idea, and it wasn't bad. Ginny and Teo helped and he came off as uninteresting and rude. Great. But this must have been all them. He wouldn't be stupid enough to get caught…” Harry trailed off and Draco was staring at him intently, lips pursed. 

“But it's not bad, is it? Now everyone knows what a foul piece of work he is and I don't have to-” he cut himself off. Harry looked back at him and smiled somewhat smugly, putting a hand to his cheek. 

“You don't have to what? Be jealous of other people getting my attention?” Draco's cheeks tinged pink and Harry kissed the corner of his mouth, utterly entranced with this endearing Draco Malfoy he saw so rarely. 

“Shut up, Potter,” Draco huffed before surging forward and kissing him. Harry responded enthusiastically, smiling against Draco's mouth, still shocked that  _ oh Merlin I am kissing Draco Malfoy and he's in love with me what is this world coming to? _ The blonde dropped the paper he was holding and put a hand to Harry's jaw. Harry's own arms snaked around Draco's waist, pulling him almost into his lap. A moan sounded between them and Harry realised it had been his own as he bit down on Draco's lip. One of his hands moved to run down Draco's arm only to have the other boy pull back, Harry's arms coming loose from around him.

“Sorry, are you-” 

“Fine,” Draco said sharply. 

“Hey,” Harry began a tad awkwardly, hesitantly laying a hand on his shoulder. “Hey are you okay?” 

“I said I'm fine!” Draco spat, causing Harry to snatch his hand back as if the shoulder it was touching had suddenly become red hot. 

Unfortunately, this was how a lot of their encounters went. Things would be going well and Draco would get… scared? Uncomfortable? Harry wasn't sure. And like they'd clarified, neither of them was great with feelings. 

“I mean, if you say so. But it's okay not to be fine, you know.” Draco didn't say anything. 

Okay, a new approach then, Harry thought. 

“If you don't feel ready to… to go further than that it's fine. I mean I don't get what this is but I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do. That would be pretty shitty.” Draco had curled in on himself slightly, attempting to scowl but he just looked so unhappy and afraid that Harry felt his gut twist unpleasantly. 

“Or… if you're afraid that someone's going to walk in, that's fine too. No one is. Everyone else has class, and those who don't aren't going to be back anytime soon. Or if the idea of us two being… sort of together is still too weird for you, we can take some space from each other a little more?” Draco looked up abruptly at that. 

“No!” he positively yelled making Harry jump. “I want to see you,” he insisted and as an afterthought: “even if you are a bit of a prat. Unless you want to get rid of me of course.” 

“Oh okay then. I don't want to get rid of you, if that counts for anything. In case you couldn't tell. Um… will you tell me what's going on in that head then?” 

“Nothing. I'm okay again. Thanks I guess. For the whole… Philippe thing and for everything you said. Fuck, I'm such a sop. But you were… touching my arm. I hate it. That's all.” 

“What's with your- oh,” Harry recalled the tattoo that Draco kept perpetually concealed beneath shirt sleeves, no matter the temperature. “Can I see it?” Draco threw him a deeply disgusted look. Harry took a deep breath. This he understood. “I know what's there. I know it doesn't define you, no matter what other people think. I know why it's there and I know that that Mark couldn't be further from who you are. What happened to you isn't who you are.” 

Draco visibly gulped and unbuttoned his shirt cuff, not looking at Harry, not looking at his forearm as he rolled the sleeve up, eyes clenched shut. Harry took Draco's wrist in hand with reverence, tracing his forefinger over the faded red mark, still prominent against his pale skin. He looked around the stone room, now a warm comforting place, so unlike the cold Chamber it had once been. He looked at the boy before him, still so vulnerable, but also nothing like the people who had borne their cold black marks with such pride. 

“Draco, look at me,” he said. Their eyes met, grey on green. “This isn’t you. You don’t need to be afraid of me touching your mark. It’s a sign of what you’ve been through, and you know that it’s different to what everyone else thinks. Okay?” 

The glassy grey eyes blinked once. 

“I don’t need your approval, Potter,” Draco said, half-heartedly and when Harry searched his face, it wasn’t an honest comment. Even so, Harry spoke. 

“No. You really don’t.” 

 

*

 

“Remind me again why there’s no school today?” Ron yawned, stretching like a cat in a patch of sun across his bed. 

“It’s a Tuesday. Fuck if I know. Hermione’s the one who’s supposed to know these things. Where is she when you need her?” Harry responded, reaching over his bedside cabinet for his glasses.

At that very moment, the door to their dormitory slammed open and Hermione was there looking far too cheerful, considering it was only seven in the morning. Granted, it was when they usually got up, but having forgotten to turn off his alarm, Harry had awoken them at that unpleasant hour. 

“I love lessons, I really do,” Hermione was declaring as she positively bounced into the room, “but I feel like a day off is exactly what the eighth years need.” Harry rolled over while Ron just groaned into his pillow. 

“Wait, it’s only our year with the day off?” he asked, sitting up in bed. Hermione nodded and sat facing him on Ron’s bed. 

“I was actually thinking maybe we could all go to Hogsmeade? It’s been a while since we did that. The three of us, you know. Just us? Or we could invite the others as well? You know. Neville, Dean, Seamus, Pansy, Blaise, Draco… Or maybe that’s too many? Anyway, the village and the pubs will be pretty empty. It is a work week after all.” She said all this very fast. 

Ron sat up and grabbed her around the waist before pulling her back to lie beside him. “Ronald!” she yelled, but she was grinning. Harry rolled his eyes at the happy pair and got up, mildly jealous of their open affection. 

“Sounds like a good plan. Might as well invite the whole crowd, but I’ll join up with you all a bit later,” he said, and went to shower, hoping that Ron’s hearing skills and Hermione’s wakefuleness were enough for him to assume he’d been heard. 

  
  


Harry greeted Dean and Seamus in the common room, the two of them sprawled over one another as usual while they hexed two candles to battle one another in the air. He told them about the plan before heading down the stone corridor where he knew Draco would inevitable already be. Sure enough, in his own little corner, there he was, behind his large wooden easel. 

“I’ve been told I’m a human furnace, but how do you not get cold down here? You’re skin and bone, quite frankly. Probably comes from not eating a proper breakfast,” Harry said to announce his presence. 

“The heat makes me drowsy,” Draco responded, not looking up from his slate. “And I do get cold. I just deal with it. Also what I eat for breakfast is my business and-”

“Has been the same for over four years. I know,” Harry finished. He sidled up behind Draco to get a view of his slate just as Draco tapped and cleared it before smiling up at him with a look of faux-innocence. “So, when are you going to show me your work?” 

“Maybe when I think it won’t make me look an utter fool. So never,” said Draco, still not looking at Harry. Harry tilted Draco’s head up, fingertips under his jaw and bent down to kiss him, deep, languid, and completely enticing. When he drew back, Draco swayed in his direction, eyes fluttering open. Harry grinned. 

“Please?” 

Draco gulped and nodded before masking his dazed expression with one that was far more standoffish. 

“Don’t go thiking that that kiss had anything to do with my decision,” he stated firmly. Harry chuckled and pecked him on the lips again. 

“Of course not.” 

There was a small selection of slates over by the wall which Draco summoned. They landed on his lap while Harry conjured the chair to stretch out to fit two people and took a seat. 

“If you laugh at any of these I won’t speak to you,” Draco told him and pushed the three slates over onto Harry’s lap. 

Three slates. The first was of the lake on a cold, green evening. Perhaps in November, or that was the vibe Harry got. Despite the cool colours, a warm orange glow came from the bottom right corner where a large, curved, dark thing was at the edge of the slate, like someone’s shoulder. It was pure feeling: peace and warmth and safety. Exactly what an Impression should be. Harry smiled at Draco who was blushing wildly and looking for Harry’s reaction and raised an eyebrow, closing off. Harry nodded encouragingly and put that slate up on the easel.

The next Impression was of him. It was a scene that had really taken place. It was from their third year during the Quidditch match that had won the Gryffindor team the Quidditch Cup. Harry turning repeatedly into the line of Draco’s vision, apparently, on his broomstick. It was sunny and Harry was smirking a little. The sun behind him put him in a halo of light, and his skin was shining slightly from exertion. The red Quidditch robes made his eyes light up more than he was sure they did naturally. Again, pure feeling. Awe, frustration, and attraction. Complementary colours had certainly been added into play to make Harry’s features stand out even clearer. He looked at Draco, questioning. If possible, he was blushing even more then, running his tongue firmly back and forth over his teeth to stem his nerves, probably rubbing it raw. 

“Tell me about it?” Harry asked, trying his best not to sound teasing. Draco said nothing. “Can I guess then?” 

“It’s when I realised I liked you,” Draco said, unexpectedly. “I thought it was a hormone thing and I uh… didn’t accept it for a long time. But that was it. Fucking hell, you’re the worst. I never stop  _ saying  _ things around you, do I?” 

Harry grinned so wide he thought he probably looked quite manic, but he kissed Draco anyway. Draco caught his wrist as he placed that slate on the easel and went to turn the next one over.  

“Just a warning. The next one’s kind of strong, and you don’t have to pretend to like it. Because it’s… impossible to.” Harry nodded but turned the slate over anyway. 

Harry was also featured on this one but waves of fear and devastation rolled off it violently. It was almost colourless in many shades of blue-tinted grey. It circled slightly in a dizzying fashion around Harry who was lying, apparently lifeless, in an out-of-focus Hagrid’s arms. The lines of Harry’s body were harsh and uneven, his face paler than it should have been. Harry took a deep breath and placed it on the easel. He turned to Draco and kissed him, clinging to him. When he drew back, Draco was calmer than usual. 

“You shouldn’t look at that,” said Harry. “I’m here. I’m always here. I don’t want you to feel like… like that.” Draco rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t now. But I did. And I wanted to remember. One of my strongest memories. Merlin Potter, you’ve just got to infiltrate all my waking thoughts, don’t you?” he said, scoffing, but smiling rather fondly. Harry swallowed roughly, his eyes more watery than he’d like, and lost himself in Draco again. 

 

Harry and Draco walked down into Hogsmeade about an hour after everyone else, and Harry was stopped about eight times, despite the number of people around being fewer than usual, by people offering their condolences and apologies on behalf of Philippe. He accepted them somewhat awkwardly, knowing the truth, but the press never could get things right. At least not the Prophet. There were more reliable sources out there, but buying the Prophet was most people’s habit by now, and not one they were likely to rid themselves of anytime soon. 

“You’re playing the victim in the situation. Not that you aren’t, but playing like you were cheated on is going a bit far, wouldn’t you say?” Draco murmured in Harry’s ear when they walked away from some sixth year girl walking between her classes. 

“Says the ex-Slytherin,” Harry responded, elbowing him playfully in the ribs. “Besides, my situation was very arguably worse. I’d go so far as to say by most standards.” 

“Well either way, you’re better off now.” 

“You would say that, wouldn’t you?” 

It was strange, walking through Hogsmeade with only Draco for company. 

“Remember when I threw mud at your head over there by the Shrieking Shack in third year?” Harry said, gesturing and grinning at the recollection. Draco turned to him abruptly and shoved him unceremoniously, causing Harry to stumble. 

“I knew that was you!” he scolded. “You’re the worst, you know that?” He paused outside the Three Broomsticks, where they were heading to meet the others while Harry opened the door for him. 

“You don’t think so.” 

Draco huffed and went to greet the large group of other eighth years gathered at a large table on one side of the pub. 

“Ah, more people to bring a good dynamic to this group!” Seamus roared at the sight of them. 

“First off,” Blaise put in, holding a halting hand up, “everyone thinks that arsehole cheated on you, Harry. But you were literally never dating him. All of us know that. How’d it get this far?” Harry laughed and shrugged. 

“I suggest you ask two certain female Triwizard Champions. It’s all on them,” he said, taking a seat between Dean and Pansy. 

“You have perfect timing,” said Pansy then. “We just asked Rosmerta if we could have a quiet-ish game of honesty hour?” Harry’s face remained blank. “Oh you know. The one we played at the start of the year where Draco left in a huff after letting slip he didn’t despise you?” 

“Oh fuck off Pansy,” Draco moaned, putting his coat around the back of his seat. Harry grinned. He definitely remembered now. How far they’d come. 

“Sure, let’s get started then,” he confirmed. This could be an interesting round. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! How you stuck with it this long, I'm not sure but thanks so much!!  
> Please leave any/all comments, concerns and thoughts below! I always love to know what my readers think (:
> 
> Not sure if I'll need 2 or 3 more chapters. It's starting to seem more like 3..? Still, nearing the end. A weird feeling.
> 
> I feel sooo rusty tbh. I made an attempt. And this chapter was pretty fun so (:


	17. I'm a Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And everything was going so well-

_And though I've known it for the longest time_

_And all my hope_

_All my words are all over written on the signs_

_But you’re my road walking me home_

 

“Verum tholus.” Pansy conjured the blue light dome over the table, it spreading from her wand around them, reminding Harry of protective charms from the. Harry moved his eyes around the circle, fully taking in everyone who was there: Dean, Seamus, Blaise, Draco, Neville, Ron, Hermione, Pansy. And him. This would be fun. They all knew plenty about each other at this point, but there was always more to uncover. More secrets that weren't things one did or should share on a normal sort of day.

“One thing,” said Harry, “same rules as last time.” At the look of the confused faces around him, he added: “No questions about… sensitive topics.”

 _Family_ he thought. _The war._ Everyone agreed solemnly. This was supposed to be fun after all.

“Other personal things are totally fine though,” Pansy crowed, looking between the people at the table to lighten the mood again. “And with that, Hermione.” The bushy haired girl became suddenly more attentive. “How long did you like Ron for before you got together?”

“That's weak,” Dean said, waving his butterbeer. “Especially for you. You're roommates. How don't you know?”

“Quiet you! Let me ask what I like. Hermione. Go.” The girl in question rolled her eyes and looked up, trying to remember.

“On and off a little since third year. We weren't ever quite completely platonic. But actually? Definitely all of sixth. Hard to pin it,” she decided. Ron blushed slightly and grinned at her, a look which she returned. “Okay, Seamus. Feelings and thoughts on Dean when he dated Ginny back in sixth?”

The game continued, not getting nearly as explicit as Harry thought it would yet. It was just like a pleasant get together with friends, if mildly more honest than usual. He didn't realise how little he knew about his friends’ feelings and then-

“Harry,” Dean said, causing Harry himself to start. Interested as to what the question could be, looked back at him. “We all know the thing with Beauxbatons was a huge sham on his part, right?” Harry nodded. “But I _have_ been asked by people if you actually fancy him and I know you don't, but is there anyone else?”

Harry gulped. He'd have to say something and he wasn't about to lie. His eyes flicked around the circle, pointedly not landing on Draco, and went back to Dean.

“There's certainly someone,” he conceded, his face emotionless. “But I don't have to say more than that so moving on… Malfoy.” Draco looked at him, a small smile still playing around the corners of his mouth from the last question, while he fought desperately to turn it into a smirk. Dean and a few others tried to protest.

“You didn't nearly say enough!” but Harry didn’t care. He’d told the truth after all- just not all of it. And now it was Draco’s turn, and he’d have to find a way around this one.

“You revealed in the last game of this you participated in- you know, way back when- that you didn’t hate me. So… if not hating me,” Harry said, doing his best to keep to remain expressionless while Draco’s eyes widened, warning. “How do you feel about me, then?”

“Oh Merlin,” Pansy groaned, and Blaise let out a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes. Hermione sat up a little straighter as well, clearly alert. Across the table, Draco glared at Harry, shaking his head.

“It isn’t enough for you, knowing I don’t hate you, Potter?”

Harry kept false innocence plastered on his face as he shook his head. Draco was going to have to say something, and this? This was satisfying, being able to have Draco see how far he could stretch the truth.

“I… fuck you, by the way- I enjoy your company. Okay? I like being around you. But you do irritate me with your whole… Potter-ness,” Malfoy admitted. Harry didn’t miss the way Draco’s eyes flicked over his body.

The dome stayed intact, and Harry feigned surprise.

“Wow, Draco. We’ve uh… come a long way since first year. Good to know I still-” Harry paused, eyebrows rising, “- _irritate_ you though. Wouldn’t want that to change. Anyway, I believe it’s your turn.”  

As bad as Draco was at thinking of questions, the game continued, the questions becoming rapidly more risqué as they went on. Suddenly Seamus was telling the group that he and Dean had been sexually experimenting since the young age of 13, despite insecurities and fears on both parts, and Pansy admitting that she had masturbated to the idea of three of the group members (those being Blaise, Draco (to her own embarrassment), and (to everyone else's surprise) Hermione).

It wasn't long, however, before Harry was called on again, this time by Ron.

“Kinkiest fantasy.”

“ _Ron_ ,” scolded Hermione, blushing. “Do you really want to know that about your best friend?” Ron grinned.

“Well, I hardly expect him to go into all the gruesome minor details, do I? And if he doesn't answer we can all just assume the very worst, how about?”

Hermione rolled her eyes at him but also turned to Harry expectantly, her hand still in Ron's own.

“What, you’re serious?” Harry scoffed. “You actually want to know?” Indicating how everyone was now facing him except Draco, who was pointedly avoiding his gaze, he figured that yes, they did want to. He shook his head. “Merlin above. You know what? Fine. You’ll probably regret this. Definitely involves the person I’m currently interested in-”

Harry was cut off by everyone’s questions of who it was.

“What a faithful guy,” Pansy teased. “Only wants the one person.” Draco’s cheeks were flaming, but Harry pretended not to notice.

“Anyway, as I was saying: With… them. And probably involves ropes- on them, not me- somewhere where there’s a small chance of getting caught, and… parseltongue? Seems to turn them on, don’t ask.” The circle was silent for a moment.

“Wow, Mr. Potter. Never would have pegged you for that type,” Seamus laughed then.

“Wait wait wait,” said Ron, holding up a hand. “Can I just suggest that you _don’t_ pursue whoever this is? Turned on by parselmouth? That’s fucked, mate.”

“Don’t kinkshame the oh-so-mysterious person, Weasley! It’s indecent,” Blaise said from the other side of the table before winking at Harry. Blaise certainly knew about him and Draco. The others didn’t as far as Harry knew, but there were a few groans so… who knew? It wasn’t that obvious between them.

“Malfoy, are you okay?” asked Neville, mildly amused. All eyes turned to Draco then, who was blushing furiously and ducking his head.

“Aw, poor, pure Draco can’t handle hearing about Harry Potter’s fantasies. They’re far too vulgar for his precious ears!”

“Shut it, Zabini!”  

Harry’s lips twitched.

*

Harry didn’t see Ginny until a full four days after the article had originally come out. All the recent publicity including him was making him feel like he was back in fourth year (certainly not fifth, as all that had been grossly negative). When he did finally see Ginny, she was flying dangerously small loop-the-loops over the Quidditch pitch in an angry frenzy when he was going out for a casual fly himself.

Harry swung a leg over his broom and kicked off from the ground hard. He swooped in front of Ginny’s broom and she swivelled to a stop. She looked out of breath but a muscle in her jaw was still twitching with some kind of fury.

“Hey, Ginny, I… realised I hadn’t thanked you yet for everything you did getting Philippe into the papers. So uh… thanks. To you and Teo both,” said Harry, hoping that she’d get over whatever this was she was feeling, and also being sincere. She and Teo had done more than Harry had ever asked of them.

“Well I’m glad it worked out for _some_ ,” Ginny spat, and she jerked her broom handle violently to the right and was about to speed off in the opposite direction. Harry spun his broom around, blocking her before she could do so.

“Woah woah woah. What’s up? What happened?”

“Nothing _happened_ , Harry. Leave me alone.”

“No. We’re talking about this now. You’re being irrational and not very Ginny about this and so you’ve already involved me.” Ginny huffed and rolled her eyes, moving about two feet backwards in the air.

“Fine, but we’re not landing on the ground.”

“Okay,” said Harry. “We’ll go sit in a tree. Or on the roof. On the roof?” Quite an idea. It was peaceful up that high, sitting on the building they spent so much time inside. Ginny shrugged, and Harry knew that was the best he’d get if she was in a mood. He turned and, trusting that she’d follow, flew up to the top of the west building, between the two bordering towers. There was a flat ridge at the summit of the roof where he settled himself and seconds later, Ginny arrived next to him, keeping her broom in her lap when she sat.

“So, "Harry began, hoping Ginny would begin talking. Her gaze remained fixed on the horizon, stubborn as ever. He’d have to be a little more insistent. He tried again. “Something’s going on. What’s upset you?”

Ginny just shrugged. “Was it school related?” No answer. “Tournament related?” A hesitation, then a shrug.

“Sort of. I mean I guess.” Ginny’s words were hard and armoured. Something occurred to Harry.

“It wasn’t Teo related, was it?” he asked. Ginny turned her head towards him so fast he was surprised her neck didn’t crack. “Ah. What happened between you?” Ginny gave a humourless laugh.

“Same night we went out with Philippe and he got with someone. Same night that did you a whole lot of good. I guess some relationships just aren’t meant to last anyway. We weren’t, you and I. Guess Teo and I aren’t supposed to either,” said Ginny. She was still spitting her words, but there was a twinge of sad lowness to her voice that hadn’t been there before.

“Did she say something?” Pause. “Did _you_ say something?”

“I didn’t think I did anything wrong. We said that the tournament and our relationship would never be in contact. ‘Don’t mix business and pleasure’ type thing,” she said, using finger quotes. “But she was scared so I… well.”

Harry nodded. Harry, in fact, had no idea what she meant by any of this. He was no legilimens, after all. “Okay… what did you say? Or… what did she say?” Ginny shot him a glare. “Um… just let it all out. It’s all good.” Ginny averted her gaze again, looking out at the mountains.

“We were told about the third task that day. It’s… it’s tough. Kind of like your maze, I suppose. But underground. And in the dark. And lumos and other light spells aren’t going to work. It’s going to be awful to watch, but most tasks have been, haven’t they?” Harry shrugged at this. The task Ginny had just described gave him flashbacks to his own tournament when Fleur had reckoned they’d have to find treasure in underground tunnels, but he didn’t voice this. This was Ginny’s ‘vent’ time.

“Teo’s half Croatian, half Norwegian. She lived down by the Mediterranean until she was ten and she’s still afraid of the dark. Up at her school she… she keeps lights on all the time. Something to do with these horned vipers that lived in Croatia. They could see in the dark, and they could make an enclosed space dark and then kill everyone. But they made her never want to be in the dark. Not ever. And I tried to console her and everything. I tried pretty fucking hard. And I offered to… to help her.”

The wind was colder up on the rooftop and Harry pulled his robes tighter around him. The sun was low in the sky and a pink line was appearing all along the horizon. He looked at Ginny. She looked more broken than angry at this stage, her eyebrows pulled together, looking down, and her eyes pink-rimmed like the mountains before them.

“But she got angry at that, and she’s usually so good with feelings, I didn’t know what to do. She was saying how I was being condescending and patronizing and how we’d promised that the tournament wasn’t a thing we’d talk about. How she didn’t want my pity. And I said she was taking it too far, because she was, and how she should be more rational. And everything just escalated. I can’t even remember how it got there, but… she said how it was so convenient that I broke up with you and then almost immediately got together with her. I mean, what was I supposed to say? She said that maybe it was better if we don’t see each other anymore. And I couldn’t say anything to that. I just _couldn’t_.” Her voice broke on that last word and she swallowed hard, falling into silence.

Ginny was by no means a young woman of few words. She spoke frequently and with conviction, but Harry hadn’t known her to be quite so verbose before- being able to say so many words on one topic all at once. Monologues weren’t generally her style. It showed the significance that her and Teo’s relationship had had to her. When Ginny and Harry had broken up, they’d both been somewhat relieved, and happy. Now, Ginny was anything but that, and Harry wasn’t about to let her remain this miserable.

“Do you think that you offering your help was the only thing wrong?” Harry asked, cautious. There were many things going through his head, but this seemed the right thing to say. Ginny shrugged and tucked her hands into the sleeves of her robes.

“She didn’t say anything else. But I mean… that would make sense. Fuck, now you’re just making me look stupid.” She gave a harsh laugh and shook her head. “Communication and everything, right?”

“Right,” Harry chuckled. “Like you said, Teo’s pretty good with emotions. Got to be more to it. But… I hope you both come around.”

“Not sure I want to, yet. She uh- said some pretty hurtful things. I think I need a bit longer. I don’t even know if she wants to stay together. If we should. Like I said, some things aren’t meant to stay.”

Harry looked at her, one eyebrow raised in incredulity. “What?” Ginny asked, looking back at him, the sun glancing off her hair when she turned her head.

“If you’re referring to us to any extent, that’s a really shitty comparison. We were glad to be rid of our relationship. We knew we worked better as friends even while we were together,” he said. Ginny’s eyes darted.

“Yeah. That wasn’t much of a relationship,” she admitted.

“Yeah. I mean, give it the time you need, but it’s not worth throwing away over this one argument. You know that,” said Harry and nudged Ginny with his shoulder.

“Thanks. This has been… this had been worth it. Merlin, you’ve gotten better with the feelings thing. How are you the single one?” Ginny stood up and dusted herself off, broom in hand.

 _Yup,_ Harry thought to himself. _Single. Totally unattached._ “It’s a good life,” he said with a half-hearted laugh. Ginny gave him half a grin.

“Race you to the lake,” she said,” and jumped off the building, tucking her broom between her legs as she fell. Harry went from shocked to satisfied in the space of a second, following suit. It was good to know he was good for something that wasn’t being the figurehead of the ‘saviour’.

*

Harry caught Draco's hand when he spotted the other man come around the corner late that night and pinned him against the wall of the deserted corridor. He kissed the boy soundly, and Draco responded, pushing his arms over Harry's shoulders and pulling him closer and twisting his fingers into Harry’s untameable hair. When they pulled away from each other, Harry smiled at the sight of Draco's slightly flushed and breathless face.

“I have wanted to do that all day. The things you do to me, Draco. Unfortunate that we couldn't,” he said, punctuating the end of each sentence with kiss to the blonde’s jaw. Draco's eyelids fluttered at the sensation and Harry grinned so wide with satisfaction that his cheeks hurt.

“Not my fault your friends are awful,” Draco said without malice. Harry dug his fingers into Draco's hip.

“Hey don't get like that! And anyway they're your friends too,” he teased.

Draco huffed. “My provocations are getting weak. I can't even believe the things I say anymore, let alone mean them to hurt. You're making me go soft, Harry.” Both boys froze.

“Did you just-?”

“No.”

“You did!”

“Don't be ridiculous.”

“You called me-” and Harry didn't get any further because Draco had pulled him in by the collar for a kiss- deep, and hard, and utterly frustrating. When Draco pulled back after what felt like not nearly long enough, he made and maintained eye contact.

“Yes, I called you Harry. I find I sort of like it. How embarrassing. What do you think?”

Harry answered that by leaping into another kiss, and that was answer enough.

*

**_The Saviour: A Friend to Foes?_ **

_Harry Potter, saviour of the Wizarding World since his defeat of the dark lord Voldemort on May 2nd, 1998, was spotted in Hogsmeade with ex-Death Eater and fellow eighth year Hogwarts student Draco Malfoy. Potter appeared at the Death Eater trials in June, defending both Draco Malfoy and his mother Narcissa Malfoy. Though these two were the only ones he spoke in favour of, some said this was already one step too far, believing that he should be condemning all Death Eaters._

_It was by the good word of Harry Potter that Draco Malfoy was permitted to return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year to complete his eighth year (this being the first time this had ever been an opportunity for Hogwarts students, because some were unable to complete their education due to the war). This was a shock in itself, but to see the two together in public conversing like old friends is something else entirely._

_Has Harry Potter finally relinquished himself of the morals he was forced to stick to for so many years? Potter being recently outed as gay, could there be more than friendship going on between the two young wizards? Is this just him coming in to save yet another, regardless of their past, and if so, is this a choice he should be making? After all, the ability of a Death Eater to change was proven less likely than we used to suspect upon the occurrence of the Wizarding War._

“What the actual- no. No. No no _no_ ! Every single bloody _time_! What the fuck is this?” Harry exclaimed, standing up so sharply at the breakfast table that the legs of the bench beneath him scraped unpleasantly across the stone floor.

The Great Hall was less full of whispers this time around, objectively speaking. Quieter and fewer people were looking at Harry. The whispers and looks this article had received, however, he seemed to notice even more.

“I can't believe the damn Prophet. Every time anything private happens, some bint is around to write it and twist every word. It’s practically all just celebrity gossip at this point. Why haven't we all moved on to more reliable papers by now? If I wanted this I would have bought Witch Weekly. Old habits die far too hard. Honestly,” Hermione scoffed, clearly despising the article as well.

“No you don't understand,” said Harry forcefully. “This is… I can't believe they would do something like this. It's… terrible. I can't believe anyone would… ugh!” Harry couldn’t take it. He scrunched the paper up in his hand and walked straight out of the room, ignoring Hermione’s cry of: “that’s mine!” from behind him, and barely noticing Draco who was red-eyed at the table, eyes on Harry, but Daily Prophet in hand.

Harry wasn’t certain what part of it angered him most: the implication that just because he was gay, walking with them meant they were dating? That was the least of his worries. People were saying he was trying to ‘save’ or ‘fix’ Draco. People were saying that Draco was a terrible person he shouldn’t be friends with. People were saying Draco’s past made him a terrible, unpredictable and untrustworthy person.

How could they say that? They didn’t know Draco or him or anything that had transpired between the two of them. But also… Harry paused. Why was he reacting like this? Fleeing to the outdoors, out into a cold burst of wind and the sight of new grass and budding flowers around the rippling lake, upon being faced with this article.

What he wanted was to go to Draco and hold him and reassure him that he wasn’t trying to fix him, that he didn’t need fixing, that he loved him. Wait- what? Yes, Harry realised, that was true. He loved Draco. He was in love with Draco Malfoy, and that should be enough. He was in love with Draco Malfoy, and Draco Malfoy was in love with him, as utterly bizarre as it was. Harry started to laugh. He laughed until he collapsed onto the damp grass. This was quite a situation. And yet… and yet. Something was still nagging at the back of his mind.

Nothing could change. Draco might love him, but he didn’t want everyone knowing about them. He might hold different views to before, but Draco still came from a Pureblood family he cared about, and this Pureblood family wasn’t exactly in favour of homosexuality. And this particular family was even less in favour of Harry Potter himself. There wasn’t much point, really. Harry wasn’t ready to give up on Draco. Not yet. Not when everything had been going so well.

*

“You’re an arse, you know that?” said Blaise, taking a seat across from Harry in the library that afternoon. Harry looked up from his book. He’d been pretending to focus more than anything else.

“I expected to get this talk from Pansy more than anyone else,” Harry admitted, leaning on the heavy hardback.

“She’s been banned from talking to you about you and Draco. I, however, have not. And I’m here to tell you you’re an arse.” Blaise, usually the calmest eighth year Harry knew (except perhaps Dean Thomas) was now thoroughly pissed off. This was clearly about the article.

“It’s awful. I know I thought it would be better for him if I didn’t approach him about it. Fewer people talking means less bullying, right?”

“I’m not going to deign that with a response. I will, however, tell you that you’re a complete idiot. You know what he thinks, don’t you?” said Blaise, back straight, and head held high in a haughty, very Slytherin manner.

“What does he think?” asked Harry, leaning further over the table, his brow furrowing.

“He thinks that you’re ashamed to be seen with him. And that _that_ is why you’re not talking to him.”

Harry started. “What? No! Of course not- I would never!” he exclaimed, only to be hushed fiercely by Madame Pince a second later.

Blaise raised his hands defensively. “Hey, I’m not the one who needs convincing. I know you’re an idiot, but Draco… well, he’s too used to both assuming your worst intentions and thinking you’re a bloody miracle.” Harry shifted in his seat. He fiddled with the pages of his book.

“You think I should go talk to him?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. No, I think you should never speak to him again and make both him and yourself miserable.” He paused, and Harry nodded, resigned to what awaited. “He’s in the south courtyard. By the tree.”

*

The tree in the southern courtyard was where one used to be able to find Draco Malfoy and his cronies during every break without fail, if the weather was fair. It was the courtyard closest to the lake, and so, also the courtyard closest to the Slytherin common room. Harry had tried his best to avoid it over the years, and recently, none of the eighth years had spent any real time there, least of all Draco. Harry would know.

It was not a particularly lovely courtyard if you discounted the tree, but the old, wizened tree was there at the centre of it, just starting to blossom. Harry couldn't deny that it was beautiful. There was always an air of fragrant opportunity to warm spring days. Sure enough, Draco was sitting under the boughs of the tree, wand in hand, and clearly concentrating very hard. He frowning, tongue pressed against his cheek. Harry approached with caution, not wanting to startle or upset him.

“Draco?” he said, once only a few feet away. Blonde hair whipped up as Draco raised his head to meet Harry's gaze before immediately looking down.

“Come to apologise? Don't want anyone to dislike his majesty? It's okay to approach when you know I'm alone, huh?” said Draco, forcibly bored. Harry sighed and sat on the dewy grass in front of Draco, facing him.

“I have come to apologise, but not for the reasons you probably think. Will you hear me out?”

Draco shrugged, eyes firmly fixed on the ground.

“Thanks. You know I'm not only friends with you- not only _with_ you to… to _fix_ you or whatever,” Harry said, phrasing it as a statement more than a question. Draco shrugged again, scowling. “I'm not. Or to… to make myself feel good or anything disgusting like that. I really do care about me, you know.” The other boy scoffed. A pause. “Draco?”

“Convenient isn't it? You care about me when it's just us, Potter.”

“Don’t,” said Harry. Draco gave him a questioning look. “Don’t call me that, please.”

“Look, if I can’t have what I want in just one aspect of my life, what’s the fucking point? Almost everyone in this damn school hates me, and a higher percentage of wizards outside of it. You… you know how I feel about you and you decided to do… whatever _this_ is in spite of that. And I don’t want to be clingy, because you clearly don’t want people to see us together.” Draco was spitting the words as he rose to stand. Harry followed suit, somewhat clumsily.

He tried to protest to this last line, but Draco didn’t let him get a word in. “I don’t know if I _can_ do this if you’re not okay with it and I _hate_ myself for that. Nothing’s really going well, and on top of everything, I still can’t cast a _fucking_ patronus.” He broke off, breathing heavily, head shaking.

“To… to go visit your father?” asked Harry, his voice barely above a whisper. Draco let out a dry laugh.

“It’s not for him anymore. Fuck him. He was always invested in me for all the wrong reasons, and he still hates you, and if he finds out about me-- no. It’s just for me, and I _still_ can’t do it. But that’s beside the point. If you don’t want to be… _with_ me, I'm not about to make you. I know I'm not easy to be around but you need to get yourself together and decide. The world doesn't revolve around you. I'll… see you, Potter. Or not.”

And with that, he left- practically disappeared into thin air. And Harry was frozen, both still and cold, in spite of the warm spring air. And all that was going through his head was _no. Please. Stay. I love you. Stay. I love you. Please. I love you. I love you. I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please leave any/all comments/concerns below! I always love to hear everyone's thoughts!
> 
> One more chapter left! We're so close. Won't lie, I am going to miss this. 
> 
> And thank you to everyone who has stuck with this fic. I reread over some of the older parts and I'm sorry you had to go through that...


	18. All I Ask of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the end comes

_ Say you’ll share with me one love, one lifetime _

_ Say the word and I will follow you _

_ Share each day with me, each night, each morning _

_ Say you love me _

_ You know I do  _

 

The Third Triwizard Task was almost upon all of them, and the Champions were under a lot of stress and pressure to perform well. Philippe, Harry was pleased to discover, was doing his best to keep a low profile. He’d soon discovered that there was, in fact, such thing as bad publicity, and he wasn’t stupid enough to get caught doing anything else just in case the media decided to twist it, as they so often did. 

Ginny and Teo still hadn’t talked in the time since their fight- just over a week. They had two weeks between finding out about the task and having to go through with it. Ginny had been keeping Harry up to date with her feelings about Teo, and it seemed as if she was almost ready to confront her about the whole situation. 

Harry was going through his own predicament. He was utterly confused about what it was Draco wanted from him. Straight boys said girls were confusing, but Harry was finding Draco far more elusive than Ginny had ever been.  _ Because you weren’t in love with Ginny _ , he reminded himself. He’d tried to talk to the boy several times since that encounter in the southern courtyard, but each time, Draco would find soewhere else he needed to be, and regarded him with a cold snideness that reminded him far too strongly of the relationship of their earlier school days. It was Draco's own fault, when Harry thought about it. He'd been the one to originally say that they weren't really  _ together _ , but the thing was, they were, and Harry knew Draco wanted that, deep down. That he liked being with Harry. 

Draco didn’t want to be Harry’s ‘other’ option; that much was clear. And if Harry was ashamed of him (which he certainly wasn’t!), then he didn’t want to bring Harry down in that respect. Perhaps avoiding him was Draco’s way of not wanting to be clingy. Perhaps he was too upset  _ himself  _ to realise he was upsetting Harry. 

Well, if Draco thought Harry was ashamed of him, then Harry was about to prove him wrong. It was the day before the third task when he finally took action, deciding to speak to Draco in a civilised yet insistent way. Blaise and Pansy in particular had been sending him nasty looks over the past few days, and Ron kept asking what he was moping about. But hopefully not for much longer. 

Harry walked into potions class with the intention of politely approaching Draco, as he had tried before. He stood there and looked at the boy who looked stranded in the middle of the room behind his cauldron, and was trying to distract from that. Everyone else was already in the room, and class hadn’t yet started, but Harry stood, ignoring them, eyes stuck on Draco. And then Draco looked back at him, and for the first time in days, maintained eye contact. He looked hurt and angry, and he didn’t look away. 

In that moment, all Harry’s ordinary and civilised plans went straight out the window. He shook his head.  _ Fuck it. _

And then he was advancing towards Draco at an alarming pace, and Draco’s eyes grew wide, not knowing what to expect. And then Draco was there within his reach and Harry wrapped an arm around his waist, put a hand around his neck, and pulled Draco in for a kiss. And after a second or two, Draco melted against him, reciprocating with all he had, clinging to Harry as if he were his life-source. And wow, it hadn’t been that long, but wow, he’d missed this. Draco's mouth was just half a degree cooler than his own and the feel of the lips and that  _ tongue  _ against his own felt… it felt right. 

When they drew back and were blinking at each other, arms still around one another, Harry finally recognised the sounds surrounding them again. Some of their friends were cat-calling them and laughing. He noticed Ron and Terry Boot exchanging coins to his left, Ron looking victorious.

“I mean,” Blaise was saying, “We all knew it was coming. But… now? That was a mild surprise.” 

And then Draco's lip twitched as he blushed and buried his face in the crook of Harry's neck. Harry laughed. 

“Are we okay then?” he whispered into Draco's ear. The blonde nodded, and Harry felt him smile. He locked eyes with Hermione who raised a rather judgmental eyebrow at him, and simply shrugged.  

Slughorn entered the classroom at that very moment. 

“Ah, at long last, you two,” he practically cooed at Harry and Draco who sprang apart. “However, I am going to have to ask you to refrain from such displays in my classroom. Now, NEWT’s are just around the corner, and we are all in excellent shape, but that doesn't mean we don't need more practice, so--” 

The lesson commenced in a way no different to any other day, except for the shared, newly tranquil looks between Harry and Draco which no longer felt like a dirty secret. To Harry, it made all the difference. 

*

Ron slapped Harry on the back when they left Potions with a “good on you,” and an assurance that he didn't have to explain himself to anyone “as much as I still don't like the bloke.” 

That night, Draco dragged Harry out of the castle before dinner, and out onto the grounds beside the lake. It was a warm evening, and the apple and lilac blossoms looked ethereal in the half-moon light. 

“What in Merlin’s name is this about, Draco?” he asked, utterly bewildered. 

“Shut up, Harry, it's my turn to do cute things,” said Draco, frowning. Harry’s stomach gave a flutter at the sound of his first name in Draco’s voice, as it always did. Draco pulled out his wand and flicked it. As if being uncovered by an invisibility cloak, an impressive picnic was revealed. Harry blinked twice and looked up at Draco. 

“This has got to be the most cheesy, cliché, romantic thing you have ever done in your life, hasn't it?” 

Draco looked despairingly up at the dark sky and tutted. “I try to do something nice, and for what? Just to be cliché?” 

Harry laughed. “No, of course not. I love it,” he reassured, squeezing Draco's hand. Draco pulled him down onto the blanket he'd laid out, and pulled his hand away, trying and failing to meet Harry's gaze evenly. 

“First of all I… I have to apologise,” he said, somewhat resentfully. Harry nodded in approval, a small smirk playing on his lips. 

“Glad you recognize that. Big of you.” Draco raised his eyebrows and cocked his head briefly in recognition. 

“I really do. I mean, apologies… don't come easily. I can't remember the last time I gave one, but… I never should have said that we shouldn't be together properly. Or that we shouldn't tell people. I know I'm… terribly jealous. And impatient. I didn't even wait to hear what you had to say. And I know you don't care that I'm… me. Fuck, I sound like such a sap, why haven't you shut me up yet, Potter?” 

Harry gave a shy smile. “Maybe I like hearing you say pleasant things.” Draco sent him a death glare and Harry searched for him hand again, grasping it. “But really. Thank you for that, it-- it means a lot.” 

They turned to eat for a while, chatting over meaningless things like school and hobbies and secret interests. 

“No really! I can do wandless magic,” Harry was saying after Draco had cleared the food away magically. Draco guffawed, raising disbelieving brows. 

“Yeah okay, Harry Potter, oh most powerful wizard.” 

Harry turned over from where he was lying on the grass until his front was almost pressed against Draco's side. 

“It's true! Do you remember the day you told me you loved me? How I cast a freezing charm on you in the common room corridor?”

“Yes, but that wasn't wandless magic. That was you being an idiot and not realising you were holding your wand,” Draco insisted, pointedly not meeting Harry's eye, but going pink at their sheer close proximity. 

“No, I'm telling you!” said Harry, amused, if also frustrated, and he rolled over Draco. Their hands interlocked and they wrestled in the grass for a few seconds before their mouths met, and then they were half-kissing, half-laughing, Harry's knees on either side of Draco's hips, hands on the other’s torso, in the other’s hair. 

When Harry drew back, he blinked down at Draco.  Galaxies were turning in those eyes. Draco blinked, closed his mouth, swallowed, and opened it again. Wind ruffled his hair. The grass was dark behind him, but his skin was illuminated by moonlight. Draco’s storm-blue button-up wasn’t done up at the collar and he appeared to catch his breath when he inhaled. But Harry’s eyes came back to rest on those eyes-- eyes which held entire galaxies in their intensity.

And Harry huffed with surprise. “There’s something bizarrely familiar about this,” he said, smiling down at Draco. “Something like a certain… pair of impressions from a few months back, wouldn’t you say? Still a coincidence? Not noticing any parallels?” he teased. Draco’s brows crept together as he looked up at Harry with a look that was nothing less than pure affection. He grinned and grabbed Harry by the undone shirt collar. 

“Shut up you,” he said, and pulled Harry back down towards him, kissing him again before sitting up so that Harry was now in his lap. 

Harry traced his fingers down the side of Draco’s face, the other hand staying at his neck. The silence was a long one. 

“Do you remember how I couldn’t sleep at the start of the year?” 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Are we still doing confessions now? First I apologise, then you can do wandless magic, what now?” 

Harry chuckled. “No, no more confessions. Just stuff you already know. You remember that night near the start of the year when you got wasted and confessed that you didn’t hate me? And then I had to put you to bed?” 

“Merlin fuck, don’t  _ remind  _ me. Why are you so cruel?” Draco whined loudly. Harry kissed his cheek to compensate for the supposed cruelty, and continued. 

“And you remember when we knew  _ exactly  _ what the other eats at breakfast?” He planted a kiss on Draco’s neck. “And how you’re the reason I sleep at night?” A kiss on the other side of his neck. 

Draco groaned underneath him. “You’re killing me here, Harry. What is it?” 

Harry sat back slightly, fixing Draco with a serene yet intense gaze. “I just wanted to say that… I love you.” Beneath him, he felt the hitch in Draco’s breath. He pressed on. “I have for a while now. Longer than I’ve known it, and I need you to know that. And believe it, too.” 

Underneath him, Draco’s eyes were tracing his face, looking for some kind of sign that what he’d said might not be totally truthful. Harry waited. After a few seconds, finding no lie, Draco pulled him down again, fitting their mouths together, and everything felt like it was going to be okay for the first time in a long time. 

 

*

 

The third task fell on a day with fine weather, sun shining bright overhead, though the champions themselves wouldn’t be enjoying that much underground. Harry had spoken to Ginny earlier that morning, and saw the sad glances she’d shot at Teo. Ginny undeniably loved her and wasn’t ready to let her go, but Ginny was also strong-willed, and knew that Teo was the one who had messed up. So if Teo wanted them to stay together, it was up to her and  _ not  _ Ginny. 

Sitting in the stands next to Ron and Hermione on one side and Luna and Neville on the other, Harry watched as Moran built up the excitement of the crowd. Ginny, Teo and Philippe were standing at their respective entrances to the underground tunnels. In a short break between Moran’s announcements, Harry watched as Teo took a deep breath and crossed the space between Ginny and herself. Murmurs and gasps came from the now-mostly-quiet crowd as she said something that couldn’t be heard. Following every action with his eyes, Harry saw Teo hold something out to Ginny in her hand, and saw Ginny’s expression become one of utter adoration before she pulled Teo in and kissed her deeply, passionately. The crowd went wild, cheering their approval at this act and Harry too couldn't help but clap and smile. 

Ginny turned around and help her hair up, allowing Teo to tie whatever it was around her neck. Once she'd done so, Ginny kissed her again and said something that looked like ‘Good luck’ before Teo went back to her entrance and Moran started up her announcements again.

“And with that, let's get started! At the sound of the cannon, all champions will enter the tunnels! Are we ready? On your marks, and…” and the cannon fired, and all three champions dropped down beneath the surface of the earth. The crowd roared, all cheering for the champion they wanted to win.  

After almost a minute, Ron turned to Harry. “They don't really think about this, do they? The fact that we actually want to be able to watch what's going on? They did better this year than when it was your go, but there's no way to watch this task, is there? We just have to wait it out, huh?” he said. 

It was true. The the triwizard tasks had not exactly been designed for an audience. The first two tasks in the tournament had been alright, though the second hadn't exactly been riveting from an outsider's perspective. This third task though, was both boring and nerve-wracking for the entire audience, and Harry really… wasn't sure what they were supposed to do. Last time this had been the situation, he'd been the one competing. 

“Yeah it's not exactly thrilling is it? I want to know what's going on,” Harry laughed back at Ron. “Ginny’s gotta win though, right? That would be pretty cool.” 

“As long as it's not  _ Philippe _ ,” Hermione spat, “I don't mind.” Ron and Harry seconded her view while the stands fell quieter. Harry started to wonder then where Draco was. He hadn't seen him since breakfast and was wondering where on earth he might have gotten off to. He wondered if he should go and find him while Moran called out how the announcements would be made from now on. 

“Checkpoints exist throughout the underground tunnels and the magic map displayed above the ground, between the stands! Keep an eye out. The Hogwarts champion, Ginny Weasley will have her checkpoints marked in purple, Beauxbatons champion Philippe Cheron’s checkpoints will be marked in blue, and Durmstrang champion Teodora Kynev will have her checkpoints marked in red. Watch out to see where your champion is, and how they're progressing!” 

Harry looked up at the map- it was basically a three-dimensional maze, tunnels going up and down, twisting around one another, each checkpoint marked in white light. Each champion was clearly being tracked, as pulsing lights in each colour were moving slowly around the top of the tunnels. The destination, glowing bright gold, was at the very base of the winding tunnels. Perhaps watching would be interesting enough after all. 

 

Time passed, and the champions moved slowly down the tunnels, and groans arose from the audience each time a champion made a wrong turn. There were several cheers though when Philippe was hindered by an incorrect path-- since the Daily Prophet article, many people (including Beauxbatons students) had stopped supporting him as a triwizard champion. It was Teo who was making the best progress overall, but Ginny seemed to find a shortcut and somehow fell a long distance down some kind of slide. 

Though the champions couldn't hear them, each time one reached a new checkpoint, the students and faculty both got very excited, cheering on the champions. Harry, Ron and Hermione were at the edge of their seats, all speaking encouragingly to Ginny who certainly couldn't hear what they were saying, and probably couldn't see all that much down in the tunnels. All three champions were closing in on the golden, glowing spot at the same time, speed increasing with every second. 

It was unclear which colour made it to the gold first, as the glow expanded in an explosion of light as whoever the winning champion was succeeded in their goal, and the map disappeared out of the air. The ground where the three champions had disappeared into the earth began to turn and open up, raising a platform with not one, but two figures standing upon it. As the platform rose up into the light, the figures could be identified- Teo and Ginny were standing together, now embracing and laughing as the sun spilled over their warm features. 

The crowd was booming, and Harry's face felt like it was about to crack in two as he watched the happy couple laughing with unbridled joy at the fact that they'd just won  _ the _ triwizard tournament together. Music started up, blaring over the sound of the cheering, the cheerful sound only making everyone in the stands yell louder. Moran could vaguely be heard saying something about another tie in the tournament with a much happier ending. Cameras were flashing and it was mere moments after the pair were awarded with the triwizard cup that journalists were sweeping in to interview them. 

Harry excused himself from his friends only to be called down to the ground to join the interview, as a past-champion for pictures with the current winners. Ginny greeted him with a huh, jumping practically on top of him and wrapping her legs around him. 

“Congratulations! I knew you'd win,” he said in her ear. Ginny hopped down and beamed up at him. “You're not bad, you know.” 

Ginny rolled her eyes affectionately, and pulled him into the frame, an arm around him and Teo each. Harry was still looking down at Ginny, looking at what was hung around her neck. It was a locket with a small pressed daisy in the front. “Not a bad gift your girl got you,” he said to Ginny who grinned up at him. Teo blushed. 

“She's pretty fantastic isn't she?” said Ginny, giving Teo a quick peck on the mouth. 

“You are more so,” Teo replied, looking lovingly into Ginny’s eyes. Sickening really, but too cute not to appreciate. 

Once no longer needed, Harry ducked out of the photos immediately, leaving the champions to their interviews and each other. Unfortunately, Harry bumped right into Philippe who was standing towards to front of the stands, looking on at the other champions with some interest, and much jealousy. 

“Well well. Harry Potter,” said Philippe, adopting his usual charming smile. “Fancy you managing to steal the spotlight on any given day. Decided I was an alright option after all? Or why did you come over here?” 

Harry blinked twice, frowning. He cocked his head. “Wow. How did I honestly not notice what an arse you were before you fucked everything up? But no, I was actually just going to look for my boyfriend,” he said. Philippe took two rather intimidating steps closer and Harry drew on his magic, should he need it, but Blaise was suddenly at his shoulder, nudging him sideways. 

“Well, this looks like a lovely gathering,” said Blaise, putting a friendly arm around Harry's shoulder. “However, I've been told to seek this young man here out, as my friend needs him. And also, if you want to start a fight, I'd really recommend not doing it in such plain sight. Goodbye.” Blaise turned Harry away from Philippe and lead him off without another word. 

Harry shook his head, incredulous. “You're smooth, you know that?” 

Laughing, Blaise shrugged. “Oh boy, do I know that? I was born knowing that. Draco!” he called then, up at the stands. Get down here or I'll steal your man!” Up at the back of the stands, Harry spotted Draco’s white blonde hair and the familiar scowl and he made his way down the stands quickly. 

“I'd like to see you try, Zabini.” Blaise just grinned as he retreated, leaving the two of them alone. Draco made eye contact with Harry, face softening. “Hi,” he said. 

Harry reached for his hand, playing his hand around Draco’s fingers. “Hey. You alright?” 

“Yeah. Glad that wanker didn't win.” Harry laughed. There was a pause. “Do you think everyone here knows?” Draco asked. “About us, I mean.” 

Raising his eyebrow, Harry leant forwards, his hands finding Draco’s waist, thumbs rubbing circles into his ribs. He tilted his head up and kissed Draco, lingering and intense, feeling Draco’s breathing hitch, and seeing the flashing of cameras through his eyelids. When he drew back, Draco looked shellshocked, and Harry smiled up at him. 

“Now they do,” he said. Draco smiled back, and leant down to kiss him again. 

 

*

 

It wasn't much later, walking along the edge of the forest hand in hand that Draco turned to Harry and took a deep breath, clearly bracing himself for something exciting. 

“I want to try something,” he said, letting go of Harry's hand and taking a step back. Harry nodded, encouraging, knowing what Draco was about to try. 

The blonde boy pulled his wand out of his robes and closed his eyes, concentrating hard, facing away from the forest. Harry watched him and his wand intently as he swept it through the air. “ _ Expecto Patronum _ ,” he said, casting the charm. 

Silver light burst out of the end of his wand, startling Harry slightly, and it formed at corporeal shape, to his immense surprise. That was unexpected. And then he recognised the creature-- a ferret was running through the air, tunnelling through silver hoops, and then Draco stumbled backwards and the silver ferret disappeared. Harry found himself struggling not to laugh as he turned to a shocked, pink faced Draco whose jaw looked locked firmly in place. 

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist from behind, finding it more and more difficult not to break down in a fit of laughter. “Good to see you're happier,” he said, glee evident in his voice. Harry kissed his neck and let out a chuckle. 

Draco kept his gaze straight ahead as he spoke through his teeth. “Don't. Say. A word.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's the end. Sorry for the wait but I'm pleased it's done, I won't lie. I am so glad I wrote this, and I'm even more glad I stuck with it. Thanks to everyone who kept up with this fix in spite of the long waits on updates towards the end!


End file.
